


The Songbird of Jamestown

by VasaliaTheWise



Series: The Songbird of Jamestown [1]
Category: Jamestown, Jamestown (TV), Jamestown- Freeform
Genre: Angst, F/M, Female Friendships, Fluff, Gwylim Lee- Characters, History, Jamestown- Freeform - Freeform, Music, Samuel Castell- Freefrom, Samuel Castell/Reader - Freeform, Samuel Castell/You - Freeform, Singing, Slow Burn, Storms, colonial history, friendships, have your cake and eat it too, if you want to read them as gay I don't care, ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-01-04 00:42:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21188708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VasaliaTheWise/pseuds/VasaliaTheWise
Summary: You are a young woman, one of many, who has been forced to board the ship carrying the first group of women to the Jamestown colony. You are among the lot who are not engaged and just as determined to make the best of this new life. Your gift for music marks you special among the voyage and gives you at least enough distinction to make friends...or enemies.You then meet the company recorder while on land.He's kind, intelligent, handsome...and engaged. Things begin to turn for chaos.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Welcome to my first fic on here ever!!!! (I'm also on Tumblr as @likesomekindofcheese).  
Here it is!!! I’m so excited and my inner history nerd is quaking! I was so inspired by reading @bluesfortheredj “A Beautiful Mistake” I began typing some hc’s and the HC’s led to this…whoops! Here is something before we delve in:
> 
> I took some liberties from the world of the show as a part of my research since I came across one article on women in Jamestown and was shook, to say the least. Sometimes history really is stranger than fiction! It also benefitted the story. I did my best to balance historical reality with what worked in this piece of fiction.
> 
> Three, full disclosure: I have not seen that much of Jamestown since access to that show is limited where I’m from. I’ve read a lot, read summaries about the episodes and characters. I’m not walking in blind. So if there is an inaccuracy in the characters or events or location, that is why.
> 
> Update: have watched the show in almost it's entirety. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Please Enjoy and any feedback is appreciated!

“You’re the worst liar I’ve ever known, Y/N!”

“Am not, Alice!”

Alice burst into laughter as you playfully smacked her arm. It was an afternoon and you had been on the ship for a week. Though you entered that boat as strangers, there is a power in women to bond and join in such situations for people who open themselves up.

Alice was one of such people.

“It’s true! You can make no such face to hide what you feel and whenever you lie, you do all sorts of things!” she teased. 

You were both sitting on your own mattress, conversing with each other. Your legs were tucked beneath you and you shoved your bag to the side to make room.

Verity walked by, it was the afternoon and she had just awoken while most had been up for at least two hours. Her red hair was loose and tossed from sleep and her eyes still blinked with sand.

“Tis true, no resisting! You’re a terrible liar Y/N! You told me you were playing that story game with the others and you lost because everyone knew when it was a lie!” she spat.

You sighed with a slight shrug, brushing it off. 

“Well, I guess it is true, I cannot tell a lie since I’m not good at it” you confess.

Verity smirked a little and studied you both.

“It will do well for you to learn how to lie, it may save your skin!” she says with a wink. The thousands of life-saving lies she told in her life seemed to glint in her face as she walked away.

Alice looked down, meekly.

“Well, I cannot lie with you…I’ve been thinking…about my betrothed today…” she confessed. “I was praying he would be a good man…” she added with a sheepish grin “ a pleasant looking one.”

“Me too!” a passerby commented, leaning forward to join.

Other heads of women popped around like the white heads of rabbits eyeing an unlocked vegetable garden. Some came here already engaged. Others did not and entered single. They were all chattering with nerves and sometimes optimism.

A new home was slowly approaching us.

It would just be a matter of arrival for our fates to be determined. And in a town overpopulated by men, marriage was almost certainly guaranteed. That as well as some land of one’s own and a place to stay. Almost unheard of in England.

In the little bed next to yours, there was a slight groaning and turning of a curly, yellow head of hair. Jocelyn got up, blinking sand from her eyes. She squinted and looked over the situation. Seeing it was light gossip, she turned away and began to stretch her arms and awaken.

“What about you, Y/N?” one woman with a pretty, round face and big brown eyes asked. She bit her lip a little mischievously. “Are you betrothed? I swear, unless you’re with Alice or Verity, you barely speak three words together!”

You feel your hands shake a bit, having to recall why you came. 

Fear squelched your insides. Images returned you tried to block. Your mother’s teary eyes. Her voice trying to reason with… the woman, your anger wiping her name from your memory. Mother was failing. Your father’s face would be as it always was- blank and far away at home. Unable to protect you from her. The woman’s voice was still bleeding inside you. It rang so loud across her manor that birds flocked away in a panicked caw in the distance.

“So, help me- you will be married! It is either Jamestown or my brother or forget my purse altogether! So make your choice!”

“What are you thinking, Y/N? We only wanted to know…I’m so sorry, I…” your asker trailed off while backing away slowly.

“I…I’d rather not talk about why. But…I’m not engaged. just hope I meet someone…I just hope you have a good man! Every one of you! You are all lucky to be engaged at all! I shall likely end up a spinster who sits at balls and just sings and plays pianoforte for entertainment!” you answer, crossing your arms.

“I’m not engaged!” said one voice, with a few echoing behind.

“Oh, Y/N, one man is bound to propose to you!” Alice added cheerfully. She leaned over and gave you a smile.

Another woman, heavy-set and with bits of black curls on her head, offered you a short embrace. They all knew you had pain inside you. On the first day of departure, you cried many tears. Your appetite was gone. You kept always to yourself, and they noticed. Until Alice and Verity began to talk to you. Then a shell inside you broke.

A few more came to join in the embrace and encouragement.

“You at least can choose who to marry” the first woman comforted.

“Better a spinster than a miserable wife!” Verity quipped as she returned, checking her fingernails for dirt.

Jocelyn had finished dressing and passed by, ignoring everyone. She looked a little green and desperate for air.

“Jocelyn! Join us!” Alice invited cheerfully.

“I will in a minute,” she said, barely turning her head.

“We’re discussing our betrothals! You’re betrothed too, Jocelyn, aren’t you?” Alice asked.

“Yes. I even met him. Samuel Castell is his name.” she answered. She brushed a bit of dirt off of her skirt in disgust.

“You’re so lucky to know him!” you added.

Jocelyn only gave a small nod as confirmation of her luck and pranced upstairs. There was only so much you could do to befriend her.

Finding you were going to sleep next to each other the first day, Jocelyn looked over the simple cotton dress and the muddy shoes you wore and pursed her lips. Jocelyn never wanted to even make small talk about the weather. She even less rushed to your side when the melancholy of the start of your journey began either.

Other women flooded around, sharing stories and giggling or mourning about their upcoming marriages. Some swapped stories of their known intended, what crops they would grow on their promised bit of land, and others shook their heads with the uncertainty. Other subjects until it seemed there were at least eight conversations going on at once. They had forgotten their semi-empty bellies. The darkness. That they were all crowded together with barely a wink of privacy and had probably seen more of one member then they would have wished.

You only nodded and sat down, enjoying the entertainment of the chatter and the slow sway of the boat on the water.

Perhaps this new life would be better.

That night, you woke from your sleep slowly. It was still night and pitch black but a familiar sound caught you. It was crying. A voice crying in her bunk across from you.

You crawled up, taking wide steps to accommodate the rock of the ship and grateful for space. With your shift on, you seemed almost ghostly. You turned to the lump on the bed crying and tapped her shoulder.

“What is it?” you ask softly.

She turned around to face you. Almost too young to join the passage. She had large dark eyes, black hair, a soft, round nose, and a tiny mouth. She was tossing and turning and clenching her small fists.

“Are you alright?” you asked again

She began to cry a little. “I can’t sleep, I’m so worried. I miss my father…and I don’t know if I want to marry Henry. Most of all, I don’t want to go there, I’ll die!” She sniffled; her face was burying itself in the pillow.

“I feel the same as you sometimes” you confirm. You crawl on her mattress and sit on your knees as she gushes out the fears keeping her awake.

You mostly listened for a while, about her fears for the colony. About the lack of food, the harsh winters, rampant diseases, and the wild rumors of the Indian natives. You tried my best to talk and reason with her out of it. But it was real. The land was infertile. At some point, only 38 men were left. Bugs buzzed everywhere on that land carrying fevers.

This was all she knew about Jamestown. Some of these you knew already.

“But…we will make a home. Somehow. We will survive. We will find happiness in anything: a sunrise, a new baby, a kind word…anything. At least, that’s what I think when I worry about when that anchor drops” you assure.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. She raised her head and wiped a lock from her sniffling face.

You nodded. “Is there anything else I can do to help you?”

“Help me fall asleep? I haven’t slept since England.” She said. Observing the darkness under her eyes it was no exaggeration.

“How can I help you fall asleep?” you asked.

“I was just…remembering you saying you knew about music, I mean, I know you were joking but…you said you knew how to sing and… and…my mam would always sing me lullabies when I was little and…I was just missing her, so, could you sing one? Please?”

“I know a couple, yes,” you confirmed. 

You crawled off so she could lie back down on the bed and be tucked in. You gently held her hand and sang a lullaby as quiet as the waters and skies outside.

It was as if she was just a child again, with the promise of infinity and no worry other than being caught in some innocent mischief

You wandered back into bed quickly, afraid of a half-awake “shut up!” upon the hearing of your little cradlesong.

But they heard anyway.

And the reaction was quite the opposite.

“I think I heard you singing last night- do you know this one? I can’t remember the name though; I know the tune…” one tall woman suggested as soon as the sun was up.

You obliged, easily identifying it as an old drinking song.

Then came another asking for a song.

And another.

And another.

Soon some of the quieter duller hours on board were filled with that of women of every voice-high, low, in tune, out of tune, quiet, loud, knowing all the lyrics, knowing some, knowing none, all singing songs led sometimes by you.

Verity smiled as she listened to a rendition of Summer is a Comin’ in while leaning on the steps and peeling off a peel of an orange.

“She’s a little nightingale, that one!” she said with a point at you. “You should charge a few pence a song and soon you’ll be wealthy enough to buy England itself!”

You smiled shyly at the compliment.

But weeks later, the nerves and fears had won once again. The night was darker. Lightning sometimes flashed through the holes on the ship. It rocked violently. No one could stand without falling. Rain poured down on the deck, dripping generously on our heads. The lanterns we set up to see around your part of the deck in the evening were shaking. Some nervous hands and arms fled up to hold them still as not to risk a fire. Thunder and panicked voices surrounded your eardrums. No matter how hard you tried, sleep refused to come.

The women were crying and groaning with their fear. Alice calmly got up and reasoned with each one. Your own throat felt exhausted from all the singing you had done today. If someone asked you for a soothing ballad or ironic shanty, you knew you had to say no. You hoped no one would ask you, even if it would help.

"Oh Alice, you dear saint, how I wish I was more like you," you thought sadly. 

You investigated your bag near your side and got out an old copy of your dear Dante’s Inferno. If you hid under the blankets, you couldn’t be bothered out of your book.

Now you were alone with the warm blanket and your old poetry. Anything to waste away the long hours and plant a little bit of England in Virginia. Even the few books you snuck in your bag felt like warriors by your constant defense on this journey.

Perhaps later, in the morning, I can sneak on the dock and read it with the sunrise- it’ll be pretty. And no one will interrupt me. Maybe I’ll even find some dried fruit and sneak some bites.

As you reached the section of the seventh circle and the reveal of the punishment of the murderers in hell, you heard Alice whispering to everyone. Her voice was getting closer. Alice’s footsteps reached Jocelyn’s bunk.

You barely listened to what they said, but then a confession caught your ears that you couldn’t ignore, not even with Dante’s adventures.

Jocelyn told Alice she murdered someone.

You began to cover your hand with your mouth to keep yourself from being given away.

She explained it all. It felt like a dream. You kept pinching myself to be sure you were hearing this.

It was a man. He had promised her marriage. She had given herself over to him. But he was promised to someone else. So, he died over a cup of poisoned wine and Jocelyn’s triumphant face.

You almost believed it was a story, but Jocelyn seemed so earnest. So, despite her station and situation, she could be convicted. And that was why she was here.

You knew one thing as Alice walked away. Such information had to remain private.

After all, you felt pity for Jocelyn. She was just an innocent. Seduced. Betrayed. The image of her crying in a cold jail cell won over any bitterness you had felt by her snobbery. Even if she wasn’t pregnant now, she was a woman ruined. Unwanted. Stained forever for one mistake.

As you turned over, nearly drifting to sleep, your mind kept asking you once you were on the edge of dreaming…

"Would I do the same if I was in her position?"  
You dreamt of minotaurs and rivers of blood. Waking up, you were half in the dream. You thought you saw a minotaur chasing you, ready to tear you to bits and drag you to hell…or was it, Jocelyn, chasing you? You didn’t know

You rushed out, clutching your book to the upper deck…and the sun was rising. It was as beautiful as Paradise as you had imagined. You almost sobbed from relief, waking slowly to light and water.

Early mornings were heaven for solitude. 

It became a secret ritual to awake early and crawl up there. Barely anyone was on deck. No more crowding. No more forced conversation or deep smells of bodies compacted together. You kept doing it until your body was naturally used to waking up when the sky was still in its pink-orange glow. Peace came at a small cost.

You crawled up there to read and breathe silently for weeks. It was too delicious.

The advantage of a ship like this was that everyone was left to their own schedule and no one was forced to get up before they wanted.

This morning it seemed as if all of the lower deck was snoring like old dogs. You crept out of bed, donned your petticoat, skirt, and stays folded by the corner of the bed as usual. You took your hair and crumpled it to your head to tie it under your cap. Barefoot, you crept over the wooden floors and quietly up the stairs. You opened the door a sliver so you could wiggle through with as little light revealed as possible.

This morning, the wind felt especially cold and sweet. The night had felt so stuffy you realized how refreshing it was. There seemed to be much less crew on board than usual. Even when men wandered around to their chores, they ignored you or gave you a curious glance before hurrying away.

You smiled and nearly went dizzy again from the blissful eternity of that pink sky.

The wind blew more. Kissing your face and making your skirt fly up like wings. Impulsively, you untied your cap and released your hair to the wind. You breathed in the air and listened to the waves of the sea as if for the first time. You felt the wind rustle against every bit of me, as if I was among the sky, flying.

There was no crying. There was no illness. There was no end. There was certainly no Jamestown. Only life, freedom, and beauty everywhere.

You felt your hair whipping around in the wind. Without a cap, it felt bigger and longer then it really was. It was always up, proper, and hidden. And now it was free. It changed direction with the wind.

The sea whooshed calmly. You walked over and truly smelt the salt, cleansing the palate of everything inside. Everything was perfect for just a second. 

A rough voice rang out from high above.

“Land ho! Land hoooooooooo!”

You shot my head up to see a short, large sailor yelling and pointing to the west with fervor.

"Had I heard it right?" you ask him. He only keeps pointing.

You dashed up to the front of the ship and felt your stomach drop

Yes, he was right. A green patch of land was pulling up, slowly, but surely. Following above it a blanket of grey clouds. The wind was pushing it closer and closer.

The journey was done.

The words of land ho echoed everywhere. It seemed as if it was like church bells on Easter until it was the only words yelling in everyone’s ears.

Women charged from below to see the first patch of land in ages. You darted back as they gasped, cheered, shrieked and repeated the news, everyone stretched their necks and stood on their toes just to see that green. Jocelyn rushed to you and looked ahead as well, squinting in the distance, albeit, with less outward enthusiasm than the others.

Then she looked at you with your free hair.

“Are you a lady or not?” she oozed.

“Why, yes, any woman with dignity can be a lady, no matter where they’re from” you answered. You felt your stomach cave in with regret at the last dart at her.

“Well, Ladies keep their hair up. You’ll want to put your hair up! You might meet your husband in a matter of minutes, do you want the men to think something lewder of you? Especially without stockings” she spat. She turned her face to the land with barely a twitch.

You blinked away a couple of tears. It was no use crying. Or fighting. At least you could fantasize a little about pushing her down to the sharks.

You retreated down to put it up again and don stockings and shoes. The clouds were already covering half the sky by the time you went back up. Windiness made them rush.

Maybe she was right, after all. Being among the number of women not engaged, maybe a few bachelors would arrive to preview what was still available. You kept checking your dress to make sure you seemed a little presentable.

The hours of preparing and getting ready for the landing flew by, almost dizzyingly. Alice was brushing her hair for the two hundredth stroke when you realized how pale she seemed despite her lovely, pink smile.

“I can’t believe it! In a few days, I’ll be married! But what if…what if…oh, I’m so nervous!” she whimpered.

You walked over and took the brush from her. You offered a few gentle strokes and barely touched her outer coat.

“It’s normal for one to fret so much, Alice! If it brings you peace, you may always look for me if you don’t like him! We’ll be bitties who complain together!” you promised.

She turned around and nodded her head, giggling a little at “bitties” and offered a thank you a hundred times.

The ship had reached the dock and we went up to the upper deck. The women about to be engaged had put on what second-best they could bring- the best of their clothes had to be for the wedding. Each one was fussing about hats, what had or hadn’t been spoiled or crumpled, which color looked the best, and “Charity you best return that socking at once or I swear!”

Save Verity among the future brides of course. She never truly cared, and she said her husband would have to put up with what he saw.

You ran up to the upper deck and gathered in lines, the ships tallness blocking our view of the people below. Many began to grumble with disappointment at the first peek of the new land (and the new people more so). The captain explained how it would go while stroking his beard in amusement at the tension. You would be announced as you walked out of the ship so that any future husbands could see his bride and escort her to the colony.

You put yourself quite close, as to be with Alice. She was still smiling yet her hands were shaking, and you realized so were yours. You clutched hands with her for comfort. And she for yours.

You waited and listened to each name, still holding tightly. Only when she edged forward in front of you, almost to that precipice, did she release her palms.

Alice’s name was yelped up. She walked up the board and down into the land. You tried to poke your head around for a glimpse at this mystery fiancée, but the boat’s tall sides blocked the view yet again, even with a different angle.

You pulled out, on instinct, the old copy of Ovid that was poking out of your bag. Maybe you shouldn’t have packed so much. It felt like it was Alice’s hand to squeeze onto.

The man called out your name and you slowly started the walk.

Your shaky legs were not assisted with the height of the board. The first sight was disappointing at first- the sky was grey dampening any thrilling brightness Virginia could offer and there was only the stony shore itself and the crowd staring. The air was warm and humid here. You could still smell and hear the sea. Fear overwhelmed you at first and you put your eyes down to your black shoes poking out of your blue skirt. It was embarrassing to have one’s first few steps analyzed so.

“Get on, girl! We have more waiting behind you!” the man hissed.

As you walked closer to the end, you decided you would look at the strangers back. The crowd was plenty. Two people caught your eye-There was one very tall man and a very small man. You saw the tall man pointing at you and whispering. The small man looked back with wide eyes.

As you reached land, your feet nearly tripped. It was the first still land you saw in months. You felt a little sick and boldly looked into the eyes of the small man.

Was it a man?

If so, he was dressed in a red dress, cape, apron, and bonnet.

"What kind of town is this?" you thought.

But as you walked more on the scratchy land, belly settling, you saw closer the eyes and soft features, the constant whispers from the smaller person signaled a high-pitched voice, and what shape it had showed hints of feminine curves.

It was a woman. And no one you recognized on the boat. Perhaps it was a couple looking for their servant on board. Several women mentioned being bought as maids for cooking and cleaning.

There was already one woman here!

She caught you staring and glanced down a little. Both of you were the color of a cherry.

Shyly walking up to her, you gave her a rushed apology “I’m so sorry mistress! I was just so surprised to see another woman here already, forgive my rudeness!”

“You hear that, Master Castell! She called me Mistress!” she squeaked excitedly.

"Master?"

But looking at her closely again, you noticed the difference in her clothes with that of the man. He had fine yellow cloths adorning his body, a warm cloak, a clean face, and shining shoes. The girl (for indeed she seemed several years younger than you) had a simple red cotton dress and a slightly faded white bonnet.

The man looked down on you and felt a sudden urge to run back on the boat and cover your head in the pillow with embarrassment. He had eyes the color of the ocean, a brown hair and beard, high cheekbones and the kindest of faces.

“Mercy here is my servant. She is not used to such words, so she is very flattered. No need to fret yourself.” he explained softly.

He offered a gallant bow and you gave a slight curtsy in return.

“I am Samuel Castell, company recorder. Welcome to Jamestown, your new home” he welcomed. 

He almost seemed to beam looking at you. None of the strangers here gave you as much as a glance once you were on land with another behind you.

You replied with your name.

“Miss, you must forgive my rudeness. I noticed the book in your arms, and I was excited- there aren’t too many readers in the colony. Not too many are able to and even less have the leisure” he said, eyeing down in small looks as to not seem obscene nor uninterested.

You glanced down to see the way you had clenched the book to your chest.

“Why, yes! I had to bring a few books along. It was a long journey and a home is not a home without a few books for me.” You explained.

You handed the book to him and he took it, examining it with Mercy peeping over his arm. Despite her dark brown bangs nearly covering her round face, her eyes were the size of saucers looking at it too.

You felt suddenly afraid and warm. Every move you made and every word you spoke would make an impression but…why were you suddenly so afraid in the presence of this man? He was perfectly courteous.

Being stunningly handsome doesn’t hurt either.

“Is that…. the Metamorphoses by Ovid!” he exclaimed while turning to the first page.

“It is, Master Castell” you answered, the name feeling fresh on your mouth, and a little too bold.

His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as it poured over the contents and flipped more through the brown pages.

“Master Castell’s home is full of books! He reads all day in what free time he has!” Mercy added.

She blushed a little and curtsied. “Oh! I’m sorry, you must forgive me this time! I…I get excited too easily and won’t hold my tongue and even sometimes…”

I shook your head and held up your hands soothingly. “It’s alright. You committed no crime, sweet Mercy.”

Samuel kept glancing between you and the pages. He then handed it to Mercy to look and then back to himself.

“I love the classics but, I never had the chance to read Ovid’s work before!” he said with the most glowing grin. He touched the lettering delicately, scanning the pages for hints of future adventures with nymphs, gods, kings, and heroes.

"Samuel Castell, what a good man. Yet… I thought…why on Earth does his name sound familiar? I know I must have heard it, and recently. But…where?" you mused silently.

“It’s very good, if not a little disturbing in some parts- It’s the only…” you trailed off with the loud announcement of the next name.

“Miss Jocelyn Woodbyrg!”

Mercy had pulled her master’s cape a little to alert him of something. He jerked up from the book and gently returned it to you with a small “pardon”.

“It’s her! My mistress!” Mercy cooed.

Oh.

You walked away from the crowd a little to make room for them hurrying forward. Jocelyn strutted over like an actress making a grandiose entrance. In her golden clothes, she seemed to outshine the grey air surrounding everyone. Her hat made her look tall and majestic and her dark cape swished as if she could choose to soar above any moment. Her skirt was adorned, and her hair was up in a bun, yet still loose to prove she had golden curls that framed her ivory, unblemished face and pristine features. Her golden dress was adorned almost indulgently and stayed tight enough to show her slim frame.

Samuel’s eyes gleamed and his smile reached its peak, never stopping after their introductions, bows, and even the sweetest kiss bestowed on her hand. The sickness hit your insides again.

They walked away arm in arm, Jocelyn’s chin high in the air. Her hand wrapped around his slowly clenching on like that of a Venus flytraps mouth closing around a fly. You almost felt the bag in your left arm drop to the ground had you not gripped it tightly.

Mercy stopped shortly by, giddy with excitement.

“Do see me sometime, Miss. It’s fun to be called Mistress! How kind you are! Oh! And! And my new mistress-I’ve never had a mistress! I’m so excited!” she cried almost in one breath.

“Mercy, you may get lost! But thank you!” you threw in, pointing to where they were walking.

She added “I swear! She’s the most beautiful woman here!” before jogging up to meet the stride of her master and his fiancée.

There were plenty of people left, but many had walked off to see the colony looming in the distance like a brown castle beyond.

But Mercy’s voice still rang in your ears.

“She’s the most beautiful woman here!”

You wandered up to the sea, lying to yourself I’m going to splash my face with water.

You crouched on the stones, the tiny waves barely touching your toes and looked down at your face. You got back up to study the rest of your body.

"There were plenty of other men, it was almost completely men here. Your time will come soon. Besides, you fool, you just met him! You’re lucky to not marry a man you just met...He’s the most wonderful man I ever met, though."

Tears were your first act on the new land, plopping silently to the sea. This time, they were seen by no one.

"You’re nothing next to her. No wonder Samuel’s so happy to marry her" you thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Alice Kett runs to you for help and you come to realize what kind of place Jamestown is. And loyalties force you to make enemies and friends...even with a betrothed recorder who catches your eye.

Everyone in Jamestown had a choice: either go to church twice a day or be denied food rations. And many people were hungry.  
It was hard to pay attention. The sermon seemed dry and repetitive. What made it even worse was that right in front of you was Jocelyn and Samuel.  
You felt a bit of warmth from the sunlight bleed through the windows on your cheek. You sighed as it made the little building a little stuffy.  
You should be reeling with the newness. You already received your plot of land. Neighbors had been more than generous. They donated spare chickens and goats to run in your yard. They gave you a few bags of seeds. One old man even dropped by a small pot of a thick soup he called Pottage as your first dinner home.  
But every day you had to see every person in the colony at the church services. As you begin to walk in, Jocelyn speeded through, wearing her snug blue dress this morning and her tallest hat.  
“I enter first” she spat at you, glaring at how wrinkled your apron had become.  
You sat beside and found to your horror the only seat available was right behind Samuel. And Jocelyn’s spot was saved next to him.  
The sermon could have been a story. Something to give pictures in your mind to distract you. But instead, it was on the ten commandments and how they must be observed each day.  
Looking at them felt like gazing at something that would make you drop dead, and yet you kept staring anyway, almost transfixed.  
There was an odd air of discomfort and awkwardness between them. Samuel would look upon the altar and listen.  
Most of the time.  
But sometimes he would try to playfully tap Jocelyn’s foot or give her a smile. She never responded. If anything, she kept very quiet and still. She hardly gave him as much as more than a glance in his direction. If not, her eyes were focused constantly on other men in the corner. Especially the new Governor in the front, almost nodding asleep.  
The minister brought his voice up. “We pray we have the strength to keep your commandments- in our hearts, have we not committed murder?” he intoned.  
Jocelyn played her part well and her whole body was still as a cat about to pounce.  
“Have we not committed adultery in our hearts? Have we not looked upon another with lust? Have we not covet that which is our neighbors?”  
You looked down on your feet. Your shoes had gotten a little muddy. If only you could sew faster or a shipment of clothes would come in, then I could at least keep Jocelyn’s glaring eyes at bay.  
It was a lovely, small church. It had simple grey beams, a low ceiling (Samuel always seemed must duck over when he walked in through the door), and nice, clean brown wood. It should have felt like an escape but now it felt like a dungeon used for torture.  
But it was only the first service. One could become desensitized to torture.  
The minister’s voice grew as soft as a bird's chirrup “But yet, we must not give in. We must consider others before our own souls, then we can find joy in keeping our commandments.”  
You felt grieved that any spiritual peace was robbed by your own selfishness.  
Even sinfulness.  
After all, how were you no better than an adulteress? How was becoming bitter and jealous making you any better than the murderer before you?  
You stayed for a while to sit and think while everyone got up. Samuel noticed you and beamed a smile as a hello. You returned it.  
Guilt swallowed you whole and you stayed glued to your seat, whispering silent prayers, begging to remove such feelings as people walked out.  
The minister was about to leave when he glanced at you with wide, dark eyes. He tilted his head.  
“Miss, do you need help?” he asked.  
You shook your head and ran out.  
My time of worship was ruined, you thought bitterly. The sun was making the air warm in the afternoon. Green trees popped their bushy heads over the walls of the fortress.  
You remembered your church at home. Prayers felt genuine, the congregation gave you gifts of small apricots and best of all-the music! It melted down and washed one around to where people sobbed. Such emotion built up could finally release and such beauty made them hear and even see the divine.  
A little of one certain hymn floated back to you. As you approached your small house in the heart of town, you began humming it softly. A way to release your fears privately. A way to earn some hope and peace when the offers of hope and peace earlier were spoiled.  
The words were even coming back and you were singing them quietly as you approached your door.  
“I knew I heard you!” someone spoke hoarsely.  
Alice was there, crouching almost behind the corner of your house.  
“Alice! Hello! What old biddy gossip do you have?” you greeted.  
She stepped forward and your warmth dropped. Her face was drained of color. Her usual smile was gone. Her hair was disheveled and the most shocking of all was that her eyes were wide with fear and one hand was almost clenching the right side of her face.  
“I…I thought…. I’d never see you again!” she began. Tears began to well up in her eyes and her face contorted.  
“Alice! Why…. Alice…what have?” you began.  
“Let’s go inside, please!” she begged. Alice kept looking back at the town with terror.  
You hurried inside with her and immediately locked the door.  
“Alice, what is it?” you asked. You put one hand to her free arm and the other to her cupped cheek. You leaned forward and tried to speak as softly as you could.  
“I…I knew I was…engaged to a man named Henry Sharrow…and the man I saw when I left that ship he…was so kind and handsome and good” she blubbered. She was so scared, she began pacing and grabbing onto her arms.  
“Henry?”  
“That gentleman was not Henry, it was his brother, Silas, and Henry…. when I met him…he… and he…he...”  
She began the most furious, ugly sobs and collapsed on the floor. Her back was shaking. You noticed there were even red marks around her arm that looked nothing like a sunburn.  
“Shhh, shhh, it’s alright,” you said tenderly, getting down on the floor to meet her level.  
You began soothing her long, wavy brown hair in comfort, pushing it away from her face so you could look at her.  
“I’m here, things will be better. He may not have been who you wanted, but you can learn to love him…” you suggested.  
That monologue froze when you noticed there was a large, purple bruise on her right cheek.  
You looked at the mark, and then her. Silence surrounded you for a minute.  
You helped her up and led her to the small bed you had in the very back of your cottage and sat her down. You sat down beside her and put both arms across from her shoulders.  
“And that wasn’t the worst…” Alice confessed.  
You felt bile in your mouth.  
“What else has he done?” you asked.  
She was quiet, her entire body was shaking. She struggled to get it out.  
“I…I can still feel him on me…in me…” she blurted.  
Nothing more needed to be said.  
You fetched her some water and tucked her in.  
“I can’t sleep…I still haven’t slept…” she insisted. But she didn’t push away the brown blanket on her lap nor the small tin cup in her hand.  
“You need to rest. Is there anything else you need? Do you want to talk about it more?” you asked.  
She was quiet, sipping the tepid water.  
“When was the last time you had eaten?”  
“I…I cannot remember…I haven’t eaten since the dinner…” she muttered.  
She shook her head and threw the cup to the floor with a CLANG. Water pooled out under the table.  
“I don’t deserve it! I’m a whore. I deserve…I deserve to starve to death!” she said sadly, clutching the blankets.  
“No, Alice, you don’t deserve that! You’re going to live! You’re going to show all of them by surviving!” you insisted.  
You remembered the pot of Pottage It still sat over the little fireplace, cool, and thick as oatmeal. You poured a little out on a wooden bowl, grabbed a spoon, and put it in her hands.  
“I won’t leave your side until you have two bites of this. And if you throw it, I’ll get another. I’ll make more from scratch if I must” you said.  
She at first nibbled at the spoon. Then Alice swallowed it whole. Then she asked for water and drowned it in two gulps.  
“Stay here and rest, Alice. I swear to you, I’ll keep you safe…” you pledge, taking her free hand.  
She turned around to face away from you as she laid down, crying so hard her back kept heaving. Then she was quiet and her back heaved far more slowly.  
She was asleep. There were so many chores to do today to get settled. Clothes to start mending. Crops to tend. Not to mention the animals.  
But you couldn’t leave her. And you were too disturbed to even think about chores.  
“She’s asleep now. Deep too. She’ll still be there” you convinced yourself.  
You had left out to start watering and planting a few lumps where seeds were dropped. It was now afternoon in the colony, and it was buzzing with activity. Women starting their shopping in the marketplace and tattered with gossip. A mustachioed farmer began gathering chickens that had run loose. Laundry was being hung up to dry like ghosts outside every house. Impressively passing by was a whole crew of gentlemen from the main building, perhaps taking a break from their work to eat.  
You noticed two men were storming your way. One was thickly built with long, light brown hair kept loose and a beard. His eyes were squinting and beady. The other one had a curly brown mop and was rather tall. Both had tanned skin and wore shirts and vests that seemed light and dirty.  
The one with longer, lighter hair almost ran up to you in a fury. His nostrils flared like a bull.  
“Where is she? Where is my wife?!” he growled at you.  
You froze, scared, and unsure of what to do.  
“Don’t lie to me! Don’t you know the laws on false witness here?” he yelled roughly.  
You shook your head, with as much wide-eyed innocence as you could muster to gain some sympathy to him.  
He understood but felt nothing.  
“Death! If you lie, you are put to death here! Is Alice in your house!?”  
You stood your ground and stepped forward.  
“Yes, she is indeed here” you confirmed.  
“Bring me to her” he demanded, pointing at the door.  
You took a deep breath. His hands seemed raised as if ready to strike.  
“Sir, this is my property. And as it is mine, you are not welcome on it” you answer. Your breath catches and you feel your heart pound with fear.  
He blinked. People from the town turned their heads in amusement and curiosity. Besides, he was yelling for half the colony to hear. Some of the gentlemen group began to light pipes and smoke in fascination.  
“Why you…let me in” he demanded rudely.  
You raise your arms, blocking the door. At least if he hit you or killed you, there would be witnesses and he could go to prison.  
“I would let Judas Iscariot himself walk through my door before you! This is my land, and you are not welcome! You are trespassing!” you begin.  
His arms raise up as if ready to punch you, and you back him away from the building, trying not to flinch from them.  
“You lost every right to enter here for what you have done to her!” you threaten quietly.  
He lowered his own arms, still gripping his fists.  
“She is my wife and my property! We’re in debt thanks to her!”  
“You are not even married yet! Tell me, was there a ceremony yesterday, or were you asleep during it?”  
He growled and shook his pointer finger at you. “Where is your husband! He ought to teach you manners!”  
“I have none! So leave! If you had been taught manners, perhaps you would have been a husband by now! And yet the woman is crying and shaking and fears the steps you take! If you had proven yourself a good man, she would have gladly submitted. And yet you betrayed her!” you say, raising your voice.  
“She is mine to treat as I see fit!”  
“Is beating her legal? I will take this to the Governor if I must!”  
He turned to notice the politicians had gathered closer to watch. And Samuel was with them.  
He stepped forward shyly.  
“Mister Sharrow, I’m afraid it is true. This is legally the lady’s property. She can do as she sees fit with it. If you cannot enter it, you cannot enter it. When do you marry?” he queried.  
“A week” Henry spat.  
“Then until the week is done, there’s nothing we can do.” Samuel reasoned.  
Henry glared back at you. You thought he might burst into the house, swing Alice over his back, and runoff. Yet he paused. He spat on the ground and heaved off, shoving everyone who got in his way.  
The man with darker hair looked at you. It had to be the brother Alice mentioned. She had good taste then, you noted seeing how the scruff became him. His eyes softened, then he walked up to you and said “Thank you” quietly before hurrying after his brother.  
The gentlemen began to depart, chattering with the excitement, but Samuel came up to you.  
“Jocelyn said you were always the quietest on that ship,” he praised, a little shocked.  
You felt your vision go a little dizzy with relief.  
“I…I speak when I have to, Master Castell. And Alice is a dear friend of mine. She…she was…” you felt a bit of long denied emotion catch up in your throat.  
“She was…. hurt by Henry. He had beaten her and I…I think he may have…”  
You hesitate and look down on the ground so you would not see his reaction.  
“He…raped her. She ran to me, terrified. Please, don’t think she led him on. She’s nothing like what they say of farm girls. girls with no money-they, they just don't have the protection rich girls do. I just….” You recalled. You felt a stifled sob come out of you.  
Samuel found a small handkerchief in his pocket and handed it to you. You nodded as thanks and wiped your face with embarrassment.  
“And she is indeed inside?” he queried.  
“Sleeping.”  
“May I call when she awakes. Perhaps in the evening after church?”  
“Of course.”  
The church service in the evening felt more terrifying than awkward. Alice had to be in a room again with that monster. She clung onto her skirts and looked on the floor. Sometimes, she would cling onto your skirt too, like an infant reaching for a kind parent. You would take her hand and pray softly for her peace of mind, just enough for her to hear.  
Once everyone intoned a last “Amen” Jocelyn curtsied her goodbye to Samuel and flounced outside to speak with the group of politicians that had hurried there.  
You thought you saw Henry begin to walk towards her. But Samuel moved forward as fast as a cat. His cape blocked Henry’s face.  
“May I walk you ladies’ home? It seems a shame to go about unaccompanied?” he offered gallantly.  
You strung Alice’s limp arm around your own.  
“Well, of course!” you replied with false cheer.  
He hovered around the two of you as you both quickly headed for your house. Once it was in view, Alice broke off from you. She ran inside and shut the door.  
“Two things before I leave, Miss,” Samuel said. He turned around and gazed at you.  
“If Alice needs any protection, tell me that I am her ally. Wife beating at least sends a man to the stocks” he said.  
“Thank you very much, Master Castell. That is very generous of you” you replied softly.  
“Oh, and Miss. I remembered your books and I wondered if…if you have this?” he asked.  
He pulled out a red book, bound by leather. He opened it to reveal that it was a collection of Spenser’s poetry, including the famous The Faerie Queene.  
“I…I’ve never read it!” you gasp.  
“Since you enjoy Ovid, I thought you might like it.”  
“Oh no, I cannot take this!”  
“Feel no shame, Miss! I have plenty at home. You can always return it when you are finished.”  
“Why then…I’ll accept it. Thank you! You have been very kind to…to us today” you say, smiling at the smell of the paper.  
The sun dipped and it became night. Alice could only pace or start talking worriedly.  
“I’ll sleep on the floor tonight” you offer, slipping off your outer clothes into your shift.  
Alice shook her brown head.  
“I can’t sleep. I know I won’t sleep” she answered.  
You pulled out the new book, reading it. Alice kept fidgety. She had to tap her foot anxiously until you gave her a skirt to mend. You both sat on the table, reading of knights, magic, powerful women, and adventures on one hand, and Alice quietly staring at the green skirt with a large rip on the other. You handed over a small needle and black thread.  
Once she began her sewing, you could begin again and read. Crickets chirruped and it felt cooler. You tried your best to stop your head from drooping down.  
“There are so many characters!” Alice sighed. “I can’t remember any names.”  
You smiled a bit, Alice finally seeming distracted. You sat up on the chair and set down the book, shaking your hands from gripping it.  
“Could you read some more? Or start from the beginning so I can remember their names again? I know most words...” Alice asked.  
“Alice, I want to but…my throat is dry…” you confess.  
“May I read it? You may have your bed back…”  
“I can’t let you sleep on the floor!” you insist.  
“I’ll be fine, just save a spot for me, okay?”  
“I’ll try to curl as tight as I can.”  
“I’m rather small, I’m sure I can fit around you to sleep” Alice assured.  
At peace, you drifted off once you laid down on the cot. All you could see was the single candle on the table and Alice’s face dried from tear stains and absorbed in the book. Her eyes were wide, but not with fright. Only fascination.  
When you woke up, Alice was curled up in a ball in the other corner of the opposite side of the bed. Her bare feet dangled inches away from your face. It must have been awkward to decide she was done and then must stand upon the straw mattress and tiptoe around to find a corner of her own.  
It was still morning and she seemed heavy in sleep. The book itself was still wide open to where she left it.  
This would all last only a week. Her wedding would eventually come.  
Would you be able to still protect her? Or would the fact that she was now chained to be sacrificed to this monster be enough an excuse for him to separate you both forever? Never to even look at each other.  
It was enough to make your stomach turn. You dressed and walked to the door to get some air before it could overtake you. 

A glowing sunrise kissed your face and you smiled gratefully. The whole building looked a little dark and worse for wear. You wondered if you could go somewhere and gather flowers to cheer her up. Although wildflowers would be favorable, it would be best not to stray too far from the house alone. Henry might take your absence to his advantage.  
Some flowers that were growing right outside on a patch of grass near your house. They were small, purple, and fragile. So small yet blooming strongly. They pointed to the sun almost, stretching to feed in the light.  
You bent down and begin gathering them. An old song came back and alone, you sang it softly  
"Alas, my love, you do me wrong  
To cast me off discourteously;  
And I have loved you oh so long  
Delighting in your company.  
Greensleeves was my delight,  
Greensleeves my heart of gold  
Greensleeves was my heart of joy  
And who but my lady Greensleeves.

“I thought that was no bird!”  
You looked up and jumped at first. The dirt and grime brought you to your feet, thinking it was Henry. But the bald head and the dirtied apron told a different story.  
“Sir, who are you? You gave me a fright!”  
“I am sorry, I mean no harm miss. My name is James, James Reed.”  
You gave him your name.  
“Miss, may I ask, the last I remember seeing Miss Kett, she was with you at church. Where is she now? I heard she is residing with you.”  
“Yes…yes she is” you confirmed. He seemed trustworthy. His voice was not malicious, and his eyes were soft.  
“May I see her, please?”  
“She is fast asleep. She has…had trouble with her betrothed. So, she is living with me at least until…until her wedding.”  
He looked down and sighed a little at the word “wedding.”  
“I understand. But…I have…I only wondered how she was faring?”  
You squeezed your fists a little. His care was genuine, but how much could you give away?  
“If you are concerned about her, you must know her heart is very troubled and grieved. She came to me weeping and blubbering. I do not wish to disclose why yet…you may ask her if you like. But I only want her to rest and be looked after. And I cannot leave her side or stray too far, for her protection.”  
“I understand. Miss, you have a good heart. Perhaps if it is too good, it may land you into trouble…” he says. He rubs his bearded chin.  
“Once she wakes, tell her…tell her to see me. I have a gift for her. I think it will help her, a lot.”  
“Mr. Read, I will.”  
“You complain of good hearts, but you cannot be rid of your own, sir!” you think as he walks off.  
Left alone, you look at the work to be done. There are only two goats to milk and several chickens to gather eggs. Perhaps the feathers can be used with clothes.  
As you return inside, Alice is awake but quiet. Her face is turned away.  
“Good morning!”  
She does not respond.  
“Today, you may stay in bed as long as you’d like. You’re free to be a sloth here, Alice. Except for church, of course.”  
Alice turns over to look at you quietly. She only mumbles an affirmative.  
You look over and there is a small basket with two skirts that had ripped slightly on the trip.  
Once you walk outside, there is a sudden “good morning!”  
At the sight of Samuel, you jump and drop the basket of clothes.  
“Oh! I didn’t mean to frighten you!”  
“Oh no, no, you didn’t frighten me, you just surprised me!”  
As you lean down to start picking it up, he had beaten you to it and had gathered the skirts in the straw basket before handing it back.  
“I was just wanting to do some sewing outside…” you feel suddenly conscious. His clothes are quite resplendent and clean. Glancing down, there is grime on them too that you hadn’t noticed before.  
“And perhaps washing…” you added in embarrassment.  
“Do you have water for washing?”  
“Well, no, but I…I will do it later, I suppose. I don’t feel safe leaving this place yet with Henry still…I just don’t want to leave Alice.” you disclosed.  
“You may stay here. Allow me to fetch some water for you!” he said  
“Oh no, Master Castell! You cannot!”  
“Well, we must both protect Alice. And the buckets are sometimes heavy- stay here and rest and I’ll come back posthaste!”  
He dashed off. You sit on the small stump outside and mend nervously. Was this really happening? But sure enough, Samuel has returned with a bucket full of water. It was almost unreal to see his clean hands holding the rope. He easily lifted it up and handed it over.  
“Why…why thank you…” I mutter. “You’re very kind, Master Castell.”  
You begin to mend and notice that he helped to hold out the skirt.  
“Sir, I have never seen a gentleman of your station take such interest in work.” you confessed.  
He gives a slight shrug and looks down at where the stitches had been tightened.  
“When I first arrived here, I had no abilities to survive. People say I am lucky but so many of us were jeered for not even knowing how to plant a seed. And rightfully so. Since then, I try to learn what I can in what time I have…”  
He looks over thoughtfully at the little crops and animals mucking about, baaing and crowing.  
“What of you, Miss? How do you find life in our colony?”  
“Different. But I have much freedom, Master Castell. I have my own home, but not a family. And everyone I've ever known is across that ocean. It’s never easy, though, but I could fare worse. For now, I am only lucky to have bread on the table.”  
“It was very hard. More people died here than you can count. Some people had to boil boots just to eat. The winters were cold here regardless. You hardly had a day in December without someone falling ill.”  
“I guess I should flee the colony when I can, but I guess there’s no better chance of falling sick in England, though” you comment.  
“Well, there’s the doctor here. Christopher Priestly. He’s a genius and a good friend. If you have the slightest cough, he would relieve it at once…”  
He recalled something and went down into his pockets. He pulled out a jar.  
“This was why I was here. This is Lemon balm, for Alice.”  
You looked up and took it. The scent was pleasing and fresh.  
“Christopher says it’s good for healing melancholy. It tastes very good in wine as well.”  
Touched, you hold it gently.  
“Master Castell…thank you…this will mean a lot to her. I…I should give you something as well!”  
“Oh no, Miss, you don’t have to.”  
“But I remember when I arrived you said you never read the Metamorphoses! I’ve already finished it long ago- I’ll let you borrow it as thanks!”  
“Well, that’s too tempting to refuse!” he answers.  
The word tempt makes a slight heat crawl up on your cheeks. You hurry inside, much to Alice’s slight confusion as she poured over the book and nibbled on bread, grabbed The Metamorphoses on the corner of the table, and fled out.  
“Here you are!”  
He took it gently and caressed it.  
“And send the doctor my deepest thanks. I must tell you about Alice. She’s adored your book while she has been here. Between your books and Sir Christopher’s lemon balm, sweet Alice will be smiling again someday.”  
“Of course, Christopher has the soul of a Samaritan. He was initially going to be my groomsman for the wedding, but Jocelyn keeps refusing such notions” he added.  
Your heart sank at the reminder. You tried to be polite and bite back any envy.  
“Who will be your groomsman then?”  
“Jocelyn wishes it to be Governor Yeardly.”  
“Really!? He’s hardly had a week here and now he must be groomsmen to a stranger!”  
“Jocelyn knows him well and if that is what she wishes, that is what she wishes. But I must speak to Christopher about such matters. Perhaps some compromise may be done.”  
“But it is your groomsman. It seems the bride does so much though it’s truly a celebration of two souls, not one. Shouldn’t the bridegroom have a little bit of a say in his own side of the wedding party?”  
He smiled genuinely.  
“You have splendid ideas, Miss. I will have to see how Dr. Priestly fares them. I’d do anything to make my wife here happy…”  
You try to blink away the words, “my wife.”  
“Master Castell…how far outside the colony can one roam? I keep thinking my house would look better with a few more flowers…especially for Alice. But only a few wildflowers grow here, and it seems seeds are few and expensive.”  
“If you walk out here only a few feet, there are plenty of wildflowers, Miss. It will be perfectly safe too. You could dash in at any sign of trouble. You could pick to your heart’s content.”  
“Thank you, Master Castell. I must confess I was not looking forward to my arrival. But it is good folk like you who have made it worthwhile.”  
“It is my deepest pleasure to serve, Miss.”  
He said “Miss” slowly, as you quietly savored it.  
“I will see you in church.”  
You tried not to get too excited at that it was “you” and not “you and Alice.” He was only being polite. That was how he was raised.  
He walked away and you could not help but watch the back of his green cape flutter a little after his steps.  
Weddings are supposed to be joyous. But now there was one more to wait upon with dread.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to get a gift for Alice increases your attraction to Samuel. But his housemaid, Mercy, is struggling under Jocelyn. What can you do?

“Alice! Are you sure?” you asked.

She shrugged and said, “I have to. I won’t be alone. No matter what I think I…I must do it. I’ll be back home soon to you.”

Home. Already this place that was her little shelter away from her trauma was her home. Not the place she was bound to. The place you now knew the family was in debt in order to have her.

She gave you a look that everything was alright, despite its tiredness, and walked off with the family. You clenched your fists and stared until she had disappeared. Just to be sure.

Off to see the lands that she would have to manage soon. Lands that would support her.

Yet at what cost?

The next few hours were quite typical. Church dulled everyone. People turned to chatter and gossip and scatter as soon as that final amen boomed the white, wooden walls. Jocelyn walked out with her nice hat and clean cloak and walked before the many men of the council. She was like a pastel shadow behind them as they walked into the courthouse and she had vanished. Nothing different.

But what was different was Samuel approaching you.

“Miss Y/L/N, have you, by chance, seen the field yet?” he questioned.

You shook your head and gave a slight bow, though propriety inside of you demanded you keep your eyes to his polished shoes, you kept looking up. At least while he was still free, you could enjoy what you saw.

“No, Master Castell, in between chores and church I have not,” you answer politely.

“Well, I have had some of my duties relieved and I have been gifted a free afternoon. Might I accompany you there? I know it’s nearby but…you may feel a little safer.” He suggested. 

He even stretched out an arm for you to hold onto.

You nodded eagerly, took his arm, and walked by his side. A few townspeople looked up in a little bit of amazement. Samuel Castell walking in public next to a young woman who was not his servant.

Especially not his fiancée.

But you tried your best to ignore such squinted looks and enjoy how the sunshine felt on your cheeks and the slight green sea of grass beyond the gate.

It was a rare day in Virginia that did not feel burning compared to England. The field outside the gate was green as could be. Samuel pointed to the east and walked next to you. Soon enough, as he promised, near the woods, there were the promised flowers. Colors filled up your eyes, more colors than you could even imagine. Far more colors than England. Yellows. Reds. Whites. The greens and browns of the trees, grass, and soil.

In a few feet of walking, you spied the flowers. A whole, long crowd of them springing proudly up to that endless blue sky. You let go of his arm and raced out. A bit of childish cheering let out of you. But how long has it been since you had seen flowers?

“This land is rich in many things, not just gold,” he affirmed, calling out.

At once, you began to sit a little in the grass, picking up what you could eagerly. It felt like grabbing for bread. You brought a few yellow blooms to your face to take in that warm, earthy scent. You even spotted a small purple flower, as fragile and tiny but proud.

“Master Castell!” you said. You turned around where he had stood close by, merely watching under the shade of some trees.

You picked up the flower and brought it to him.

“I’ve never seen purple in a flower before!” you said happily.

“It’s lovely,” he agreed with a smile that made you feel even warmer.

He took it in his hands, and you admired how long and smooth his fingers looked as he twirled the little flower around, his hands were large, befitting a very tall, broad man and he could have easily crushed it. Yet he didn’t.

He handed it back to you, pressing two of his hands between yours, feeling the coolness of his rings.

“I think Alice would love it, dearly!” he boasted.

“She would!” you look around and then at him. You had the urge to pause. A slight breeze picked up and you felt bits of your hair drift off.

It was getting too warm. You wanted to take it off, to have the back of your head feel free and light. To not put in another strand or hurry somewhere to tuck it into your bun at least.

But the words on your last day at the boat were still there. And you were in a man’s presence, too.

“What is it, Miss?” Samuel asked. He walked forward and leaned a little closer to you.

You lowered your eyes.

“Would you not like to keep a few flowers? I thought a few would light up the little house I have, but perhaps you would like some as well?”

“Well I…yes, I think I would,” Samuel answers. He blinks in surprise but delighted surprise.

You stifle a laugh at the thought of making a purple flower crown and standing on your toes to crown it on his brown head. But you settle for choosing a couple of white and yellow ones and then handing it to him. The wind picks up slightly and you feel a few more untucked strands fly out. So much for propriety.

“I thought yellow because I remember that was what you like to wear,” you say.

He smiled a little, “really?”

“Well, no other person really wears the color! So you pop out quite a bit like these flowers!”

He looked down at the blossoms. You wondered if he would comment on how his fiancée or even his servant would love them. But he was quiet, only smiling. Sweetly as well.

“I will keep them safe,” He praised tenderly.

He looked at you, breathing a little quickly. His eyes darted around a bit.

“Misstress Y/L/N…” he began.

You turned around and sat up.

“I…I mean…” he started. He looked up at you and down at the flowers, twiddling the flowers a little.

“I thought this morning I heard you with the blacksmith and before that, you were singing that ballad. It is a pleasant melody, old, but sweet. Yet I cannot remember all of the words. Only the first bit.” He explained. He fiddled with the rings on his left hand.

“Greensleeves? Well, I can…” you say shyly.

You begin to gather some flowers as you busy your hands, trying hard not to look at Samuel and sing them, or else you know you would feel something inside you break.

“Your vows you’ve broken, like my heart

Oh, why did you so enrapture me?

Now I remain in a world apart

But my heart remains in captivity

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight

Greensleeves was my heart of gold

And who but my lady Greensleeves

I have been ready at your hand

To grant whatever you would crave

I have both wagered life and land

Your love and good-will for to have.

Greensleeves was all my joy

Greensleeves was my delight

Greensleeves was my heart of gold

And who but my lady Greensleeves”

When you peeked back at Samuel, he looked a little flushed himself.

“Well, I may have to write them down!” he quipped.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He looked at you for a moment, those last minutes finishing the garlands. Your beautiful, smiling face underneath the sunlight. With the grass, the faint chirrup of birds, and the colorful flowers all around. How your skirt bloomed around you gently, like a rose blossom among these. And your sweet, soft humming, recalling, and even repeating the lyrics of that old Tudor lament for memory. There was something inside him that refused silence.

He didn’t know when it started, perhaps when he noticed how you defended Alice and got to see the true nature of your character, one of bravery in the midst of danger, utter devotion to those close to your heart, empathy, and determination to fight for those who have been hurt in spite of what others in that position would choose.

Maybe it was your eyes in church, tired, but a little bright. Half in the earth, half in heaven. But which part of you came from which half was sometimes even unknown to him.

Perhaps it even started when you stepped off of that boat. Shy, a little hurried, clearly worn from the journey, yet still hopeful, curious, looking for a bit of good in spite of the grey, dirt, and rocks, and clutching a book in your hand. The only other person in all of Virginia interested in books. Other than him.

He wanted to admit it, for the first time to himself, out loud, what was locking him up. The reason for those sleepless nights he had. For when he was alone, those thoughts would not go away. Especially not in dreaming. Your lips curved into a smile as you sniffed one blossom. He felt jealous of that plant. Oddly. It was close to your lips. The place he wanted to touch so much but couldn't.

There was so much he wanted to say at that moment, yet all he could get out was about bloody Greensleeves lyrics.

“Are you done, my lady? Allow me to walk you home, Mercy might need assistance with supper and I'd rather be there early…”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, when you woke up you noticed something at the window. A spy, perhaps? You leaped out of bed and ran forward.

But no, it was a small gathering of primroses.

“Alice, look!” you gasp, shaking her awake.

She hurried out, still in her nightgown, and returned with the pink flowers in hand.

“Why they’re beautiful! Are you going to make this hut a garden?” she wondered, sniffing them and looking at the other wildflowers around your house.

You shake your head. “Oh, no! Not at all! I didn’t pick them yesterday!”

There is no note, no object, no sign at all who the flowers are for. So you both are quiet until you start poking at her.

“I think it’s Silas…or James!” you joke.

“What, no!” Alice denies, though her blushing betrays her.

“Oh, Alice! You’re a coquette! Admit it!” you tease lightly.

Alice smiles a little bit, hits you lightly, and sniffs the flowers a second time. She collects a tin cup to put them in on the table. You both smile at how it is another pinch of color among even the wildflowers you had managed to decorate in the place.

The simultaneous gurgling of both your stomachs interrupted the scene.

“Is there any bread left? I’m famished and we can’t eat flowers!” Alice wonders.

She walked over to the small kitchen area. There was only enough for two slices. She looked in the pot and saw that there was only so much milk that the goat was letting out at a time for two grown women to drink.

“We will be out soon…” you fret. “Do you have any spare coin for a bit of meat for later?”

Alice shook her head. “Not much, because I’m about to be…”

A little exasperated from hunger you groan “uggh! There’s hardly anything!” You almost go over to kick the pail in frustration but you stop yourself, feeling Alice’s warm hand grab your arm so tightly you feel the bone.

"Y/N! Calm down!"

You pause a bit, Alice turning pale at the reminder of who would be providing for her for the rest of her days.

“Sorry…I have a rather nasty temper sometimes…I just need to work, that’s it…” you correct.

Besides, you weren’t Alice. You didn’t have men falling at your feet with the promise of income with just one word from you.

If you wanted to have enough to live, you needed to do it yourself.

Alice chews her lip.

“Maybe…if you went around town and spoke to a few people, you might find something. Though, one never knows what will happen, Y/N!” she shrugs.

You put on your outing cloak, tuck your hair up and away, and head off into town. If you looked carefully, amid the clang of James’s iron, the polite tipping of hats, or the smell of fires being kindled, there would be a way to make some wages.

But as you passed the Meeting House, there you caught two faces you had not seen in public outside of the church. One was the golden head of Jocelyn, and the other was the white-capped head of Mercy. Your mouth opened a little as if to call out Mercy's name impulsively at seeing her.

But you had barely taken a step further when Jocelyn reached an arm up and slapped Mercy across the face. The servant girl was so surprised the hit pushed her to the ground.

You jumped, letting out a cry in surprise the same as Mercy. Mercy looked up, red-faced, and tears welling up in her big dark eyes. Her tiny hands were full of dirt.

“That’s what you get when you won’t hold your tongue!” Jocelyn hissed, her hand was still up and her fist clenched.

Samuel had just hurried out when he saw the scene. His blue eyes seemed squinted, confused, and shocked, looking between the three women. Only you went down to catch Mercy’s hand while Jocelyn laced her arm around Samuel, sighing.

You look up at Samuel, then back down to Mercy, leaning down to pull her up.

You looked back at the two, then at Mercy.

“Mercy…you should have…well…” your mouth moved faster than your brain and Mercy was still sobbing.

“I will look after her and then return the girl,” You promise the couple and then head off.

Samuel stole one last, sad look at you as if to memorize how your footsteps sound on the ground. Merely giving him a worried glance, you turn your head to Mercy.

“Oh…it’s you! Oh, you are such a good soul!” Mercy blabbered as you reached your home.

“I know your mistress well, Mercy. I slept near her on the ship. I was going to tell you that you should have known better than to do something to provoke her…but with Jocelyn, who knows what will provoke her,” you sigh.

The heavy smell of all of the flowers hits you even just outside the door. You lead her inside and decide to give her a bit of water.

“For you, Mistress Mercy,” you say.

Mercy returns it, the memory of your mistake shining in her eyes.

“My mistress was in a foul mood…well, my soon-to-be mistress. She kept telling me she wasn’t feeling well and my chatting was making her worse but…” she began to cry again into her cup.

“My tongue! My bloody tongue!” she wailed.

You begin to hush her and even hold her hand. Mercy cried, shaking, and then paused. Tears now were arriving much slower. Her chest was heaving far slower too.

“Miss Y/N, it’s been told people hear you sing as you do your chores,” she whimpered.

“Oh, really?” you reply with a blush.

“Do you know anything nice? Anything comforting, please. I haven’t worked for so long I can’t remember any.”

You begin singing one of comfort to her and she only looks at you, occasionally sipping her water. It was bold of you to take her away. But the look on the child's face when she was slapped would have made a stone weep. You hear a knock.

Arriving, it is Samuel again. You could have jumped if you weren’t so used to him surprising you.

“Is she alright?” he asked, leaning down to look you in the eye.

“A bit in shock, but yes, she is. She just needs a bit of time alone and perhaps her mistress needs to apologize…” you answer. You turn your head back to see Mercy has set her cup down and jolted up to stand for her employer.

“I just wanted to say…thank you, for looking after her. Mercy is a gentle soul. She doesn’t even burn my bread without a hundred apologies. I was…shocked too.” He added.

“Is your…your wife at peace?” you ask, not resisting the word of choice or the bitterness in your tone.

“No, not yet. She is feeling very ill, she claims but Christopher will…”

“She should not have hit her,” you blurt.

“I agree.” He huffs.

"If she keeps doing this, I will interfere. I'll take Mercy myself. She'll live with me if needs be. Not as a servant, but my friend and Jocelyn won't be allowed to even speak to her. I won't allow her to live with a mistress who treats her this way," you finally say.

"Y/N...Mercy adores Jocelyn...but thank you for your concern. I'm sure Jocelyn will apologize. She has kindness in her. I met her long ago and I know her well. But, If there comes a day where Mercy is in trouble or any danger- I'll consider it."

Mercy’s eyes grow wide watching you both. She starts to make her way back down to her seat and keeps drinking her water.

You walk outside with him and close the door, better to leave the poor girl in peace for a second.

“Master Castell…” you begin and he looks at you. Why? Why are you marrying her? You wanted to ask. Can’t you see who she really is? But the thoughts diluted into the air. 

“Master Castell…are you happy?” you manage to question.

There is a little pause. You both remain in the shadow of the house for a while as it stretches with the setting sun.  
“Almost, Y/F/N.”

You were a little shocked.

“Oh, I’m sorry…I was forward!” he apologizes, he even steps back.

“It’s alright!” you insist, raising your hands peacefully.

“I’ll pay for it; you can call me Samuel.”

“Alright Samuel, would you like to talk to Mistress Mercy?” you offered, lightening the mood.

“I will walk her home when she is ready. I will speak with her then and Y/N…thank you. Endlessly.”

You went back to Mercy. Her face was still red and her dress dirty. You wiped off the dirt with a cloth and asked her something to distract her.

“Do you know of any work? I can sew, but I’m bad at cooking,” you list, counting skills on your fingers.

“Some gentlemen need maids for their wives and servants, I know of a few. With so many men, women are getting married every day.” Mercy reports. She sets aside her cup and curiously fingers through the flowers.

You thought of the upcoming Castell nuptials. It was probably the day after tomorrow, from the rumors you heard. As you got a cool cloth for Mercy’s cheek, you made silent plans to visit Verity’s tavern and wheedle her for as many ales as you could possibly drink that very night so you could forget…

“All it seems except my mistress…”

Your head whipped around and you nearly dropped the cloth.

“What! I mean, what do you mean?” you hiss, aware of who might be right outside the door.

“Oh, it must be one reason my mistress struck me. She doesn’t like living where she is, the bed’s too hard for her, she claims.”

“Mercy, what about your mistresses’ wedding?”

“Master Castell is delaying the day of the wedding by a month!” she exclaimed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your food and money are disappearing. Luckily you find employment. Unluckily it is for the last person you want to work for. Samuel confides in you a dangerous political secret.

Speaking to strangers was sometimes your own circle of hell. The sight of the governor’s wife on the streets of the town stuck you with a slight terror knowing your intention.   
Although it was an overcast afternoon, it was balmy. there was silent sunlight that made you squint. You took note she was heading home and followed her at a polite distance. She chatted with almost everyone jovially as you waited in the back. From her fine hair, put up and decorated it with small pearls to dark blue dress with a rather large skirt, she appeared regal.   
Finally, she reached her home. A whole garden filled with vegetables lined the side, but the green did not make the house look any friendlier. It loomed over you without blocking any clouds. It seemed even darker and its door was like a beast’s mouth.  
Mercy said she needed help and work. But what would she think of you begging her for money? Your mouth went dry and your brain urged you to flee.   
But as you drew your sights lower, you saw her eyes kept going down. She was holding the hand of her little daughter, with curly brown hair and full, rosy cheeks. The girl was skipping across the dirt, half-tugging her mother, babbling away about her new baby brother. The Lady looked down on her and even swung her arms, much to the girl’s squeals.  
Someone like that would not curse you away.   
Taking a deep breath, you started walking before your thoughts would stop you.   
“Lady Yeardley, may I request your presence briefly?” you requested.  
She nodded politely and sent the tiny girl back home. Breathing in, your hands pressed but fiddling with each other, you spoke how you heard she had a need and you were experienced. You made your offer as a maidservant quickly and briefly.  
“I cannot hire you” the Lady Yeardley said.  
“Oh…I’m ver-very sorry…” you whimpered; you look down on the ground to your shoes. “Mercy said you were, uh, were available and I’m…I’m running out of food. And money. I-I have to work.”  
“It is not that I do not doubt your abilities, not at all. You’re experienced, even. You would make a lovely maid. There are only two reasons. One, we were all told not to treat the new women here like servants, and second…” she muttered.  
Breathing in, her brown bun dotted with little pearls seemed to shake. Then stepped a little closer to you. You stepped forward. Her voice was lower.  
“I saw you walking the other day in the company of Master Castell unaccompanied. Are you employed by him?” she asked.   
Though the way she pronounced her words seemed sharp, her brown eyes still looked soft.  
“No, I…I am not” you answered.  
“And you know he is to be married soon?”   
“I do.”  
“Then were your intentions honorable?”   
Behind you, you jumped as you heard a few goats being led off through the streets, bleating. A farmer whistled and swatted a long stick to keep in them in line.   
“If not, you do understand that adultery on this colony is punished by hanging” Lady Yeardley warned  
Legs shaking, you couldn’t grasp at what to say other than a polite sputter of “Yes, Lady Yeardley.”  
Death for a few flowers?   
“Dear maiden, don’t be afraid. I mean no harm. I do not mean to frighten you. Only to protect you. I remember you on the boat. I’ve even heard your voice as you do your chores. Your presence is a good one here, if you ask me. So, you need to know of any possible danger. Any frivolity here can be fatal in the wrong hands. So, tell me, in all honesty before someone else does, where were you going and what happened?” she interrogated.  
You held your hands, clasping them together to squeeze them for some comfort.   
“Your secret will be safe with me, I won’t report you” she assured, walking forward and opening her hands for you to take.  
Looking her in the eye you, grasped your palms to hers and began “Lady Yeardley, that day I walked with S-“  
You also bit back the thought of his first name, Samuel. That name you would silently whisper to yourself at night before you went to sleep. But you shook your head and corrected yourself.   
“With Master Castell, yes, we were walking, but nothing dishonorable had happened. I swear to you, he was…” you continued.   
You felt short of breath. Lies were impossible for you. And remembering Henry’s threats, illegal here. The Lady leaned to you and nodded patiently.  
Taking a deep breath in, you began to recount that idyllic, almost secret, yet innocent hour.  
Or that was about to come out of your mouth when Jocelyn swung by, practically butting in her hatted head like a horned goat butting a bale of hay.  
“Why, Miss Y/L/N, I need to speak with you at once. Mistress, whatever are you speaking of with her?” she queried. Her voice was dripping as smooth as honey.  
“Mistress Woodbyrg, you know that this girl was seen in public walking with your fiancée, unaccompanied and has confessed?” Lady Yeardley asked.  
You felt your teeth grit. How on earth would Jocelyn react to this? Would they find Samuel and then ask him what happened? Would you be sent to the stocks? Jailed? Worse?   
“Why yes. I do know!” she said.  
You felt your stomach dropped at how cheery she sounded.   
Hanging it was.  
“As a surprise wedding present, he decided to gift me with Miss Y/L/N to be my maid until we’re married!” she informed. A bright smile appeared on her so large, it could touch her earrings.  
She told a bloody lie to the governor’s wife! She could get hanged in an instant if it’s proven!  
“What about Mercy?” you blurted.   
You remember seeing the little servant girl scurrying behind Jocelyn all the time, hopping across the dry sections of the mud like a rabbit or hanging on to Jocelyn’s or Samuels cloak to prevent dirt, though her own was caked at the seams. Though lately there was a slight red mark on the sweet Mercy’s cheek.  
“Oh, she’s going to mainly work in Castell’s house to lighten her load. Another wedding gift,” Jocelyn coolly answered.  
“But she’s asking me to be my maid!” Lady Yeardley responded, looking between you two.  
Her brows furrowed in confusion and her nose went up. Yet you noticed how Jocelyn’s shoulders relaxed and her calm smile was still.  
“Well, you know Miss Y/L/N is a silly fool and forgets so much, is it not? She even forgot her own interview!” she chirruped.   
She walked over to you and laced one white sleeved arm around yours, her pastel pink sleeve felt like ice compared to the hands of the governor's wife.  
“He only wanted to be sure it was a surprise. But I just figured it out, dear man!”   
There was a stiffness in her eyes that dared your refusal by the pain of death. What if this was a trap?  
But what choice did you have? If you said no, then it meant denying this was the reason you were in public with Samuel and there was only one other reason that Lady Yeardley would decide it was. A reason that would cost you dearly to confess in public with the woman he was promised to. Lady Yeardley might be able to keep a secret safe, but you weren’t sure if Jocelyn could.  
“I…well…yes, I had forgotten. I’m your maid now. Do forgive me, Lady Yeardley, I am a foolish girl. I only wanted to be sure of my options” you agreed.  
“I promise you, we’ll be like sisters” Jocelyn assured, looking at you with a wrinkled nose.  
“Very good! Best of luck with your future here, Miss Y/L/N. I give you my blessing,” Lady Yeardley praised, oblivious to how you were feeling the color drain from your face.  
Suddenly from the house, an infant began wailing.   
“Excuse me,” she acknowledged before turning the door shut.  
Jocelyn half-dragged your arm, to point to where she was staying until marriage (“The Pierces, good friends of Master Castell”), she then detailed each minute of her routine at a rapid pace. From which berry she preferred to eat to what songs you would prefer you to sing if she wanted to hear them to how her pillow should be fluffed before she laid down to sleep.   
Head spinning, you counted each task on your finger of what was expected. Secretly, you longed for paper, ink, and quill just to draw out each chore.   
Even more, a knowledge of how to write each chore and request. Not silly drawings. Real words in real sentences, like the very rich and educated people in London.   
Glancing back at Jocelyn discussing matters of payment in her pastel pink gown and mint green cape, you bet a family that could dress their daughter like that could teach her to write.   
You snapped back at the sound of Jocelyn’s smooth, low voice repeating the time you were to be there.  
“Don’t be late. And…Miss Y/L/N?”   
“Yes?”  
“There’s dirt on your face.” She reprimanded with a smirk.  
It was a quiet supper later. Though you gave your reports of being a maid, Alice only smiled. She barely touched her bread. Then she excused herself and sat on your shared bed. Quiet tears were falling down her cheeks.  
“I’m sorry, Y/N, it's just…I was remembering Henry and…I just…I can still feel him on me, no matter what I do.”  
“I understand, Alice” you soothed.  
There was a loud knock on the door.   
Jumping, You and Alice looked at each other with large, worried eyes. Her breaths were suddenly shorter, and her hands were shaking. Neither of you budged. You tried to look over where on earth you could hide Alice at a moment’s notice.  
“Alice? Y/N?” an Irish tinted voice lilted. “Ya should bloody know me!”  
You both Released your held breath. Walking over, you opened the door to see Verity’s slightly dirty, but stunning face.   
“Verity! Oh, Verity! How good to see you!” Alice chimed, immediately going to embrace her.   
Verity accepted the hug and squeezed her arm. A bit of cool night air rushed into your house.  
“Verity, shouldn’t you be at the tavern?” you ask.  
“I needed to leave fer a bit! ‘Sides, Y/N, I hadn’a seen ya fer a few days” she greeted.  
She swaggered in, taking in the flowers and even picking up and sniffing a few. Her pale skin was glowing in the orange candlelight and her magnificent mane of copper hair seemed to glow too. Verity always seemed as bold, untamed, and free as her own hair.   
But her smile looked strained.   
“Come, sit! It seems we haven’t talked in a year! I know you’re married to the tavern keeper now… How is your husband?” you asked, motioning her to sit on a chair at the table.  
Verity and Alice looked at each other wide-eyed.   
Recalling that day you left the ship, you recalled Verity’s husband did not collect her and how hurried and confused her brow grew as she stepped into town to find him. She seemed to shrink amid the relieved faces of happy women glad to find land and in some cases, families, and spouses.  
Verity walked over and plopped herself heavily onto the chair with a groan.  
“Me husband? He’s piss drunk right now, what ‘e is. No diff’rent than any other night” she complained.  
Getting up at once to the nearest clean plate, you offered her Alice’s bread, some goat milk, and some berries. Verity chewed on the food in silence. Then she began gulping down the milk so much that a bit fell onto her bodice and she wiped the remnants with her hand.  
“Ye got anythin’ stronger?” she asked, looking at the white milky bits on her arm.  
“No, not at all. There was a little ale I bought but…but it just vanished. Must’ve lost it somewhere” You explained.  
Glancing at where the food and church rations were kept against the other wall in cabinets and in a pot over a small fire. Verity leaned over and shot up her eyebrows in surprise.  
“It…doesn’a look much.”  
Blinking away tears she popped another berry into her mouth as if it could give her the peace of mind a drink might.  
“D’you know ‘e tried to whore me off me first-week‘ ere, Y/N?” she confessed.  
“No!” you gasped.   
“’e’s a bloody scoundrel. ‘E even cheated so it wouldn’a happen. But still…And I…I thought maybe it could work, but I’m…I’m jus’ worried. What will ‘appen to me? E’ll jus’ drink and gamble and waste ‘is life away. How’m I gonna live?”   
She grabbed a piece of bread, ripped it with ferocity, and then bit into it hard.   
“Alice, did you know, you ask?”  
As she nodded, your blood went cold.  
You felt your jaw clench at the thought. Nearly prostituted by her own spouse. Who couldn’t keep his head straight without getting drunk? Cheating? Gambling? This wasn’t what Verity deserved.  
And you didn’t even need to recall Alice’s situation. At least while she was free, she could stay here, and it was illegal for Henry to enter. But not for long. Once she was married, she may as well be a sheep to his slaughter.   
What could you do for Verity?   
There was one thing…but it wasn’t much.  
Without speaking, you left the table and kept your distance, listening as the two began to speak worriedly about how little their lives seemed to compare the promises of the Virginia Company.  
“A free land? Bah! Not worth it with men the likes of these! And Y/N’s free, but the company’s gonna insist she marry soon to pay everythin’ off! 150 dammed pounds of tobacco is too bloody much!” Verity ranted.   
She turned over her shoulder to look at you and pointed, her brows lowered in worry.  
“The time’s gonna come fer yer freedom and maidenhead whether ya ready fer it or not!”   
She finished the berries by cupping them into her hand and pouring them into her mouth. You cringed at the thought of giving your freedom and maidenhead to someone like the men they knew.   
Looking over to your bed, you snuck your hand to the place under your mattress to your little leather couch. Verity tilted her head.  
Pulling the strings apart, you counted fifteen coins. You plucked out five.  
“Verity, here, have some of this” you said.   
You press a few coins into your hand and cover her fingers over her palm with yours.   
“But…That’s really her husbands!” Alice warned.   
“He doesn’t have to know” you explain. “Verity, you can get yourself something to help you out, in any way. Food. Clothes. Shelter even. Anything to make your life bearable.”  
Verity shrugged with a fox-like grin as she took off her shoe and hid the coins.   
“I barely spoke with ye and ye already givin’ me yer earned coin!” she scoffed. “I’m just a low thief, I’m not worthy.”  
“You’re smarter and braver than most ladies I know! You’re more than worthy! And you need this more than me. I’m working now, I’ll earn more.” you insisted.  
Alice walked in, her eyes growing big.  
“Y/N, are you sure about this? We’re already running out. And your eggs- this morning I’ve been counting and…we’ve only two eggs- someone’s been taking things from us!” she fretted.  
She pointed to where the egg basket was kept and showed that indeed there were only two small eggs.   
You shook away the thought of giving the money back and brushed Alice off.   
“No, Verity, you deserve it. I don’t have much, but I could give you all I have if I could. Just know if you need help, come to me immediately and I will try to help. I have a house and money that’s my own. Alice has the Sharrows. But what do you have?”  
Verity smiles brightly. No hint of slight sadness this time. She walks up to you and pats your back proudly.   
“I ‘eard about what you said to Henry. Wish I could’a been there to see it meself. ‘E deserves worse, the bastard. Yer a great woman to do that, Y/N,” she said.  
“You met the blacksmith here? He said kindness kills people.” You recalled, thinking back to that morning not long ago.   
Glancing at the window, you noticed a new set of primroses were there. The blacksmith sure was insistent!  
“But ye did save me, and I could’ve killed me ‘usband. So that’s a life saved!” she joked before she said her goodbyes, opened the door and left.  
After she closed the door, you sat back down, your pouch in your hands, and sighed. It felt dangerously lighter.  
“I’m so nervous I wonder if I could sleep tomorrow.” You confess.  
“Oh, Y/N, you have no reason to be. I’ve been with Jocelyn on that ship, remember? She has her kind moments, you’ll see.” She said, placing a light hand on your shoulder.  
Heavy rainfall lulled you both to heavy sleep.  
The sky was blush pink, refreshed from the rain, as you dashed in that morning to the house. It was hard enough ducking the mud and animal dung on the streets while still tying your apron behind you. Recognizing the house where Jocelyn was staying twenty paces away, you froze.  
The ground in front of it was covered in mud. A large pig laid down cooling himself in it. There was a butcher nearby salting his wares on an open table. They were bloody. And some blood seeped to the mud.   
Seeing no dry place to hop across, you sucked in a breath and hurriedly stepped through the mud right to the front door and knocked.  
The housewife answered. She was pale, very tall, green-eyed with a ginger bun, and was bedecked with dark red finery and lacy white gloves. You backed away a little.  
“Oh, hello. Mister Pierce is away. Who...who are you?” the woman asked, frowning.  
“I’m the new maid for Jocelyn, Mercy has been given a break” you explained shyly/  
She stepped aside, gesturing you to walk in.  
Looking around, it was an open room and very wooden. Wood floors. Wood walls. Sunlight flooded in as the only light. A desk stood in the middle of it and across from the entrance. It held two large, brass candlesticks and was littered with paper and ink. There were a few chairs and stools. Two windows were placed high up on opposite walls, but they were grimy. Candles were attached high up on wicks, unlit. As plain as your shelter.  
“Excuse me, mistress…”   
“Pierce. Mistress Pierce.” The lady answered, with a polite curtsy.   
Curtsying back, you babbled “I’m Y/N Y/LN, and my mistress says she always needs me to greet her and then to eat in the morning.”  
“Well, the kitchen’s there” Mistress Pierce pointed out to the left.  
You scurried into a small kitchen separated only by a long, white curtain nailed from the ceiling. In the middle was a table with a basket where six eggs waiting to be cracked for breakfast. Sunlight drifted in, still gentle from the morning. But that and the fireplace made it stuffy. The whole place smelled of the oatmeal that was bubbling over the fire nearby.  
“Where is she sleeping?” you ask.   
Mistress Pierce points to some stairs nearby and ducking your head as thanks, you rushed up. And knocked on the door.  
“Enter.”  
Creaking quietly, your eyes scatter, finding the bed to your immediate right. You then stepped forward and curtsied.   
It was a dark room. The window on the wall to your right had its shutters closed. It was all completely wooden from the walls to the beams and brown. There was even a table with a red cloth and a large chest on top. There were even a few places on the wall where there were candles. Two more desks you noticed were on either side of the bed.  
Jocelyn was in her nightgown, her blond hair dripping in ringlets over her shoulders on her large, dark wooden bed with the biggest green, velvet, canopy curtains you have ever seen. Her lap and legs were covered by a large, pink blanket and white sheets. She crossed her long, white sleeves.   
You realized how shallow you were breathing.  
“I’ve been awake for an hour, where is my breakfast?” she demanded.  
“It is…uhm…coming right up.”   
Stepping downstairs, you tried to concentrate on what berries she liked to eat in the morning as to not mix them up. Returning with a bowl of oatmeal and some blueberries in a cup, you walked up holding the plate, trying to smile lightly.  
But the stubborn frown on Jocelyn’s graceful face remained.  
“You’re too slow…” she cursed.   
Frowns were growing on your face as well. Folding your hands and looking down, you decided it was better to bring up what she would ask about now rather than later.  
“Mistress Woodbyrg…I assure you, as you know, I did walk with Master Castell. And I am aware you are engaged to him. But I swear to you, he was chaperoning me so I could gather a few flowers just outside the fort for Alice Kett. It was his idea, not mine. He kept his distance as I picked and made sure I returned safely. He was only worried about me going out alone. He is a gentleman, as you know. Nothing improper happened. And…you can even ask him, if you would like. He will give you the same answer” you confessed slowly; your heart raced as you looked up into Jocelyn’s blank stare.  
She shrugged and nodded.  
“Fine by me. Now, I want this cleaned up. Now. I despise this room” she snapped.  
Rushing down, ignoring how your legs were sore already, you grabbed a broom and some water and a cloth. Then you hurried back and at once got to work.   
You began to sweep out dirt on the floor in silence. Sometimes Jocelyn looked down at the food before her, and sometimes at you. Placing the broom against the wall, you stood on your tiptoes to reach to open the shutters and let in light. It had a view at the dirtiest, brownest part of the colony.  
“I…can gather flowers for you…  
Jocelyn’s eyes stabbed into you.  
“… with Alice. As a gift of thanks for your generous em-employment…would m-make the p-place brighter,” you added with a panic.  
“Hopefully the flowers won’t be as ugly as you are, Miss Y/L/N. And next time, wipe your skirt and shoes before you come in,” she said.  
I could take that mud and throw it at you right now.  
But you threw the thought away. If one was locked in the lion’s den, then it was better not to provoke the lions and wait for an angel to shut their mouths.  
She set aside her dishes on the desk at her right and wiped the crumbs and a few stray berries off the blankets.  
“Sweep them,” she told you right as you dipped the cloth into the water on the floor.  
Nodding, you gathered your broom and swept them off, you had barely put them into their dust pin when you heard Jocelyn say something above you.  
“Y/N…there is a dress over there in that chest that needs mending…in that chest. The floors can wait.” She declared, pointing to a huge chest on the wall across from her bed.  
You got up and walked over, seeing how it was filled with little bronze knobs scattered all over for decoration. Opening it, you saw a stunningly beautiful gown. Far prettier than anything you owned. It was golden with a bejeweled bodice and lace all around the collar of the neck. Checking it, there were only a few minor tears. It seemed to beam more with the drifting light.  
Maybe it cost as much as half of your belongings. Looking up, Jocelyn tossed her curls from her shoulders and looked right into your eyes.  
You placed it carefully in your arms, took the closest chair, took out the needle and thread you kept in your apron pocket, and began to mend the tears in the skirt.  
Recalling Alice’s words, you mumbled out “It will look beautiful on-”  
“Better than it would on you. That will be my wedding dress.” Jocelyn interrupted with a smile.   
Feeling fire in your eyes, a couple of tears betrayed you. You didn’t even dare to look up to see if Jocelyn would react to your reaction. You just breathed slowly and kept mending.   
Was this really a trap? Was she dangling the fine things she had in front of you? Or even her marriage? If she tempted or tricked you to steal It and you somehow managed, like everyone thought maids did, it would be seconds away from the stocks.  
At least one good thing will come from this marriage, I won’t have to work for you any longer…  
“Do you know why my wedding was delayed?” Jocelyn queried, walking over to the window with a pink blanket draped over her shoulders.  
“No,” you answer.   
You turn the dress over, looking for any other tears.  
“There was a sudden business venture he had to take up! He had to reassess the records for errors and adjust his work for the new influx of women and land! It was crucial he said, he has to work even at night!” She huffed.  
You heard as the butcher outside began to slice something wet and thick open.  
“This is the whole reason I am here! But, if I must wait, I will wait.” she sighed.   
Keeping quiet, you inspect the dress once more before folding it delicately and placing it back into the chest.  
“Make the bed for me, I need it neat. I don’t want it to be as rumpled as your dress” she barked.  
I’m supposed to scrub the floors next, you little…  
You focus your best on the action of turning it over, folding and unfolding the sheets, and every physical sensation. Just to get out of your thoughts.  
Scrubbing the floors had to wait. She insisted you style her hair next, giving you exact instructions and attacking you with glares and a chide if you got a certain curl twisted wrong. After pulling her cream stays and tying them, dressing her in her pastel petticoats and skirts, and adding a blue hat with a small feather.  
She insisted you walk with her to church, carrying her cloak up and back. All throughout, despite the ministers droning, you felt curious, and even surprised eyes look at how close you had to sit next to her. And then back to the house, her cloak raised as high as you could carry while your own skirt got more mud.   
Jocelyn blabbered a list of chores that made your head spin. The floor was not mentioned.  
And then you ran to complete each one. Every press of water, every sweep, and every work of needle or knead of bread. By the time the sunset, and you had presented her with dinner in the kitchen, you finally dragged your feet upstairs, and got the cloth in the water bucket to scrub the floors.   
You first heard the loud growling of your own stomach as you scrubbed fervently. Turning around, you heard a bit of wood creaking under someone’s feet.  
“I’m not hungry. Undress me.”  
You took off her hat and cloak and placed them back in their chests. Then you unlaced her stays and removed each skirt, petticoat, shoe (which, to your silent frustration, was muddy), and stocking then draped her smock over her head.  
Jocelyn smirked at the sound of your stomach as she pushed her arms through the sleeves.  
“Do you see the end of the desk to the left? There’s some food, water, and your money in the pouch.” You are dismissed for today,” she said.  
Looking at the end of that desk, there was a white and blue jug of water, oatmeal in a bag, two apples, and two gold coins in a small pouch.   
It was the water jug that sored the muscles of your arms where it lay, but you walked hurriedly at night. You were nervous if any local men would feel bolder at night. You set your eyes straight on the path to where home was, not daring to wander elsewhere.   
Except you smelt tobacco and impulsively you looked to your left.  
But you did pass Samuel briefly, smoking a pipe next to Yeardley outside in the evening air, he gave you the kindest smile you had seen all day and bowed gallantly. You curtsied back, barely bending your knees, and then quickened your pace away.  
Ugly…dirty…slow…  
Alice woke up in the middle of the night to your sobs, as quiet as you tried to make them. But they came out before you could limit their strength, as well as the whimpers from your mouth You had curled in a fetal position away from where she was lying next to you.  
His image, Jocelyn’s words, and your reality were too clear.  
“Y/N, what’s the matter?” she asked.  
You didn’t turn to face her. You had to make Alice believe she had allies, even in Jocelyn.   
“I can’t tell you it’s…it’s ugly and dangerous, I…I think I’m committing a crime. But I…I can’t tell you!”  
“Don’t be silly, you can tell me!” Alice vowed; she laid a warm hand on your shoulder.  
“Let’s wait a month, and then I’ll tell you” you promise.  
She soothed your hair until your tears ended and you could sleep.  
But by the time you woke up, Alice was gone.   
She didn’t return the next day either.   
Waking up by the third day your arms ached to even put your shoes on your feet. Glancing over at the egg basket, you counted one egg. Yesterday morning there were four thanks to your payment and you ate none.   
Sighing at the thought of another exhausting day, you grabbed a bite of bread and an apple to eat on your walk and opened the door to go out.  
Alice was immediately in front of you, her hair was out loose and blown from wind, her face was flushed.  
“Oh, Y/N! Y/N! Have you heard? The whole town is talking! Henry’s dead!”  
Head spinning, you took a few steps back and caught yourself.   
“No…this is a joke!” you denied, shaking your head.  
“It’s not! Henry’s dead!” Alice replied, her eyes widening and smile growing.   
Glancing around, it seemed no one who was about town seemed to care much of what you both were speaking. Still, it was better to be careful.   
“When…when did you learn this?” you ask.  
“This morning, I rushed all the way from the Sharrow’s to tell you…and…” she kept rambling, you could tell she was keeping from bursting into bits from her excitement.  
“How did he die?” you hiss, interrupting.  
“There was a fire on the boat he was sleeping on” she explained, getting the drift and leaning her head closer.   
“It was so full of tobacco and gunpowder it caught fire. He didn’t jump out and swim. And it was a nasty fire, nothing remained!”   
Almost not believing it, you just took her hand. In Alice’s eyes, there was a hint of wicked glee in their shine. But then it slowly faded, and her frown returned. Her eyes went to the ground, down below where the monster now seemed to be.  
“I’m glad he’s dead” she spat.  
You squeezed her hand.  
“Me too. Alice, I need to go. Soon. Jocelyn hates it when I’m late,” You explained.  
“Wait, I need your key for a bit.” Alice insisted.  
“What for?”   
You clenched your teeth in fear of what venom Jocelyn would release for another morning lacking punctuality by her terms.  
“I’m taking my things. I’m going to live with the Sharrows.” She explained.  
“What! Why?”   
“Y/N, I…I owe them a debt. They are the reason I’m here. They have a farm and new land and need my help. And they’re…other than Henry, they’re my family now. They’re all the kindest people you’ve ever met. You’ve protected me from Henry best you could when they couldn’t but now that he’s dead…I’m free. I don’t need to hide. I can go out and do as I please now.”  
She leaned over and her voice dropped to a half-whisper.  
“I can even be with Silas, too. I think I may even love him.”  
Handing her a spare key, you give her a quick hug before you hurry out to town.  
“I’ll miss you, Alice. If you ever need help, if you have nightmares or anything about it…you know what, run to me. Or Verity.” You wish as you release her.  
Before you run, you see Alice embracing the key to her breast and waving at you.  
Rushing inside, you give your curtsy, then scramble to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.   
You noticed the egg basket on the table. There were three more eggs than there was yesterday.  
Swallowing your anger and breathing in deep with that thought, you worked up a little smile and walked up with the bowl of oatmeal to greet your mistress.   
Jocelyn however, noted your entrance and breakfast with a scowl and a bit of “pig” as you gave her the oatmeal.  
“I’m tired of oatmeal. Y/N, I need you to start gathering eggs for tomorrows breakfast, so it won’t be late again, and be sure to sweep up any dust in this room, I want it spotless! And oh, the laundry!” she listed.  
She flounced over to a large woven basket where it was filled with her lovely dresses.  
“You need to do laundry every day now. First off, go to the river and wash them. Every. Last. inch.”   
“I…I will.” You answered.   
“If I find a speck of dirt, you will have to wash it again. Go to the river. I accept river water for washing, not the dirty well water. It’s illegal, anyhow. If I see any dirt or see you washing it with well water, I’ll send you to the stocks!” she threatened.   
Blinking away, you felt your arms groan from how heavy the basket was.  
“Go, you idiot!”  
Hurrying out, balancing with both arms, and pushing the basket on your hip, you made your way to the river from a dirt path on the east of the fort. It was not a long distance. You could make the wooden walls were only half a mile behind you.  
Hearing the bubbling water and a few feminine giggles, you saw the river with several other women also washing. It was a clear, grassy area near the water and there were large trees and bushes around you. It seemed the land right before the river dipped into a small hill that would plummet some unlucky person. You sat by a secure area where you could easily reach in with your hands, pulled out the brush and soap, gathered the first green skirt you saw, and got to work.  
Scrubbing and washing every elaborate layer of clothes ached your eyes and made your hands rough and red. Checking the large skirts for anything flawed felt like you were really cleaning the sail of a ship. There were so many clothes, the basket tipped over and let them tumble out every time you set it up.  
Some ladies turned up their heads and noticed how large your load looked compared to theirs. Some gave you worried looks before turning their heads down. You were so focused, it seemed none would converse with you. When you did notice someone next to you, you felt your pulse quicken and your mouth dry again from nerves of what to say. Once you did think of some topic, your silent “companion” had left.   
Most women had left when you only scrubbed down four items, mentally marking what needed to be hanged. Sighing, dreading the thought of Jocelyn’s sour face and next insulting nickname, you turned to your pile to take the fifth item, setting up the fallen basket.  
There was a lump moving around under a white petticoat. Jumping, you hesitantly opened it. A little brown face full of fur popped out from beneath. You cried with surprise, backing off.  
But the animal that crawled out of the clothes and on top of the basket. It sniffed and kneaded the fabric. It looked like a weasel. It had a huge, soft black nose with whiskers and two black eyes amid a white face lining against its brown fur. Grooming its face with its paws, it then settled its soft, webbed feet over the silks and began to wiggle itself out of the basket.  
It turned out to be longer and plumper than any weasel you have ever seen! Was it even a weasel? Who knew what the creatures of Virginia ate or could do? Even a small snake killed Eurydice.   
The plump weasel made its way to the edge of the basket, letting it fall with the finery tumbling out. You waited for the creature to strike, backing away slowly as one did with bears.  
But it stood around, sniffing the clothes and chittering. If it did eat humans, it seemed relatively uninterested in you. While plump, it was still small next to you.   
Suddenly there were some footsteps behind you. They seemed heavy and short, perhaps that of a bear or maybe even some wicked rascal. Your skin crawled at the sound.  
It was getting closer.  
There was a large stick close by your feet. Calmly as manageable, you picked it up and swung it around from behind you.  
Thwap!   
“Stay back from me!” you yelled. Then you reached down, grabbed the dirt, and tossed it with all your strength.  
Samuel flinched, though he ten paces away as your stick swatted the air in his direction and ducked in time for the dirt to fly flat to the ground before it could hit him.  
“Y/N! Y/N! I yield!” he cried, hands up in defeat.  
“Master Cas…Samuel! What on earth is going on? You scared me!” you apologized, dropping your stick to the ground at once.  
“I wanted to go on a ride in my boat to think and then I saw you…what are you doing here?”  
“I was doing laundry and…this…this thing! It popped in the clothes pile!” you explained, pointing at the weasel.   
It walked around, sniffing the more of the clothes that toppled out with it.  
“Why is it I always catch you when you’re working on clothes?” he joked lightly.  
“I…well…you’re right!”  
Giving in to the indulgence of laughter you felt a smile grow on you for the first time in days.  
You hoped he wouldn’t notice the finery of the clothes you had to wash and come to realizations too soon.   
“It doesn’t look dangerous! But…is it dangerous?” you asked.   
You walked over and behind him a bit, using him as a shield.  
He laughed a little.  
“Y/N, that’s an otter! And I promise you, it’s not dangerous at all. It has more reason to fear you instead…” he explained.  
It waddled closer to the river and stared up at you. You now noticed the gentleness of its black eyes, the softness of its fur, and how fast it was breathing in its long body.  
“Oh, I am so sorry dear fellow. You…surprised me…I didn’t mean to scare you” you cooed out, charmed instantly by its innocent face.  
The otter looked at you, eyes shining, and then hopped into the river. You watched as it swirled and turned, showing the white marks on its belly. It floated peacefully away before dipping down and heading off.  
“You strike well, at least! But is anyone here?” He looked out, eyes glistening a bit, but lids half-lowered.  
“No, it seems every woman has done her laundry and left.” You sighed, looking after the clothes and putting them back into the basket.   
“I’m a maid for-I’m a maid now. Just for a little while. have so much to do and I wasn’t given a list to remember them all,” you said, walking back to put the clothes back.  
“Y/N, you could make a list.”  
Turning a bit red, you looked down in shame, “I can read, as you know, just not…write. Most of the women here can’t either. I just have to count on my fingers,” You confessed.  
It felt horrid to explain this to a man who probably not only already knew this, but whose own purpose in the whole of the colony was to write everything about it.  
“Well, you can always learn, if you’d like.” He offered, he even crouched a little to meet your eyes.  
“Really? How?”  
“You can try copying words from books but…where is the stick, ah! There!”  
He stopped low, letting his long arms reach for the stick by your feet. You retreated your feet, suddenly aware of how close he was.  
“If you have time, let’s start with the alphabet. And letters” he began.  
He showed you how to trace letters in the dirt, which you copied with another stick. His own were curved and clean, yours had shaken as you traced it and kept repeating the shape and sound.  
“X…Y…and Z?” you asked, checking his for where the lines pointed.  
“Yes, that is how you do it!” he praised, observing the letters.   
“Will you be here tomorrow at this time?” he asked.  
That was the light of your servitude. Washing and the break from washing. When there were other women around, they made little bits of chatter with him or you. It was company enough to ensure it was not dishonorable or unaccompanied.  
“Well, Master Castell, what is the matter ‘ere?” Verity asked the next day, leaning a small basket on her hip.  
“Nothing, Miss Y/L/N is learning how to write a little,” he answered with a bright smile that matched yours.  
“See Verity!” you cheered, “I can write all except for Q!” as you took your stick and drew smaller versions of the alphabet. Verity leaned down, then looked at you both, and gave a half-grin.  
It was a whole week of meeting amid heavy washing with a few minutes with Samuel to learn to write. On the fourth day, he began showing up with a quill, ink, paper, pen, and books.  
“Miss Y/L/N, now you start writing words. Here is the word ‘you’” he began, holding a piece of paper against a book before you and writing the word on it slowly.  
“And here is the word ‘me’…can you try that? We’ll start with simple words” he explained, passing the quill to your hand.  
“y…o…u… and me looks simple, m…e…” you mumbled as you carefully copied his writing.  
Then you double-checked each word and looked up to him, and he nodded his approval.  
He showed you how simple words formed, even with the silent letters. By the sixth day, he showed you how to write simple sentences. He showed you how books often had corners or blank pages in the back to scribble on. Then at evening, amidst eating whatever you had earned, you traced the letters and words you remembered and in your book on your finger.  
On your books, you could write on them to practice miming the movements. It felt comforting without Alice’s presence in the evening.   
On the sixth day, you were using a collection of plays and copying down larger, flowery words. You pointed and asked how to write the words “murdered”, “remembrance,” “madness,” “beauty,” “vision”, and “avenge.” It all seemed fantastical compared to the practical sight before you of half of the townswomen washing. Once you had pointed to the word “nymph,” and then suddenly recalled something.  
“I just remembered. I have your copy of The Faerie Queene, would you like it back?” you ask.  
“I’ve no use for it but…yes, I do. Do…do you need your copy of The Metamorpheses?” he added. He reached a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat.  
“I’ve no dire need for it yet, so you may return it when you’re ready,” you said.  
He was quiet for a moment. You looked down at the yellow paper and began to write the word “nymph.” Then he shot up his answer once you had written the stem of “h.”  
“It’ll be ready in about…about five days. It’s a long book, and I’ve been busy, so forgive me.”  
“There’s nothing to forgive, Samuel.”  
By the seventh day, you were using his copy of Paradise Lost in the back to practice writing the word “garden.” Both of you were sitting on the ground as you used his pen to put the last curve on the “n.” Once you looked up with an accomplished smile, you saw Samuel’s face had gotten dark and his brows were furrowed.  
A cool breeze drifted by. Looking around, you and he noticed how there was no one else around. His posture stooped.  
“I…I have told no one else save Jocelyn of this but...I have been asked to be a spy.” He confided.  
“A spy!” you whispered; the thrill of a new skill forgotten.  
“The governor asked me. I had to agree. Then Farlow, my own employer, began to ask questions. He said that he wanted me to spy for him on the governor!”  
“Goodness, you’re about to be everyone’s spy.”   
Your hand curled over the paper, watching as the letters of “garden” were drying.  
“I panicked. Then I said I refused to be a spy to Farlow. He then said I had to be his spy, or he would send me back to England.”  
You felt a gasp escape you.  
“Could he do that?”  
“He could. I didn’t know what to do, so I asked Jocelyn for guidance…”   
“What did she say?” you ask.  
A little gust forces a cloud out of the way. It makes the sunshine it’s ray on the water, glittering as fine as any sapphire.   
“Her idea was to give my own employer a fake tip, ruining his reputation.” He reported flatly.  
“Isn’t that a little cruel?”   
Setting the book and paper aside, you looked right at him. Trying to control how your own breath was lighter seeing his angular, striking face.  
“I refused. Y/N, I couldn’t do it. But she says I must do it. She says I must spy on both for the other! You see…somehow…she has her heart set on…”  
He paused a little. He then released a held breath through his nose and whispered into your ear, careful of any possible listeners even in the bushes.   
“On making me governor of Virginia…”  
Your blood ran a little cold.  
“How would that work? I mean, how does one become the governor of Virginia?” you asked with that same quietness.  
Any hunger from your job was replaced with nerves of how close you noticed he was moving to you. You caught yourself leaning away but made yourself meet him a little closer. Bidding your legs to be still and not run off, you planted your weight firm on the earth and took note of each word.  
“The governor is usually elected or chosen by the king. Or the last governor dies or retires.”  
“Do you want to be the governor?” you asked.  
He hesitantly nodded.  
“Sometimes. The idea of it. I thought if I got people to love me if I could help others…then I could be voted in. That’s how everything’s decided now. People here have the chance here to have a voice, and I could help them all. But then I see the reality. Spying? Lying? Ruining reputations? Y/N, is it the title worth such deeds?”   
The trees rustled.  
“I have even seen people die here to get power. And not just from being executed.” He adds on.   
He turned, looking at the water. Then he sighed in frustration. You took your arms and hugged your side, a bit of sunshine fell on your back, warming you.  
“Then you don’t have to do it. Tell them all no.” You offered.   
His head bolted around, and his jaw was a little slack.  
“But…I…” he began to stutter a little.  
“Well, what do you want, Samuel? Other than being the governor?” you questioned.  
“I…I just want a simple life in this colony. A home, Safety. I…I want to be a father someday. A good one. I want to live here. Where it’s beautiful and I have a purpose and everything’s new.” he said.   
He shrugged once he noticed your small smile.  
“Well, I can’t have children. Jocelyn doesn’t want any. Or at least for now” he corrected himself.  
Thinking over this, you folded your hands in your lap. The redness from all the work was starting to show and you could feel how rough they had gotten. It was nothing like the large, white, smooth hands he had.  
“Then, at least, you should go to Jocelyn and tell her that it’s not safe to play this game and to let it go. And you can tell Farlow you would rather be back in England then spy, if you’re feeling brave. He may have been just scaring you into it,” you suggested.  
“Samuel I…I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t budge into your business.” You apologized.  
Backing away a little, you noticed how close you were leaning to him, nearly to his face. It may have miscommunicated something.   
“Don’t worry yourself, I gave you my business!” he said.  
“You will respect her wishes about children, right?”  
“Why of course!”  
“If you respect her wishes, why shouldn’t she respect your wish for a simple life? A marriage is supposed to have compromised, even a friendship needs compromises.”  
“Well…it’s a little silly- we aren’t even married yet! Are you sure?”  
“Absolutely. Then say you will not be a spy, you won’t ruin anyone’s reputation, and that you will not become governor of Virginia by those actions. It will be hard but…something can be figured out…you can find a way to compromise. You should tell her it’s not safe. People have died. You don’t have to do anything that threatens your life…” you reasoned.  
He nodded and his face grew lighter. It was as if the sun out on the water was now shining from inside of him.  
“I’ll tell her when I see her later today. Thank you, so much, Y/N.”  
“You’re welcome.”  
Your hands twitched a little and your moth went dry. Then he turned to look at the white, blue, and yellow gowns toppled over near the basket.  
He got up from sitting and then turned to see you from below. He noticed your blue skirt still blooming around you.  
“May I help you up?” he offered.  
You gave a little nod with your eyes wide.   
He reached out his hands and, though pulling back a little at first, you reached for it with a light grip. You noticed the stains of ink on his knuckles and fingernails. But they were warm, smooth. They were soft, too, almost like gloves rather than skin except for the very fingertips. Strength pulsed beneath that softness from what you could feel. Feeling the tightening of his arms to help pull you up, you were lifted to standing.  
He held your own hands still for only a few seconds. You could feel his pulse.   
There were birdsong and a flutter of wings from the tree above you. A cloud moved away, and it became sunny again and the river gurgled in approval.   
Once he released a little bit, you willed yourself to pull your hands away, retreating demurely to your stomach while he lowered his. Yet inside you were buzzing slightly from that small sample of his skin  
“Do you need me to escort you home, Y/N?” he asked politely.  
The tight lips of the local women haunted the back of your mind again from the flower picking day. And Lady Yeardley’s warning.  
“Sadly, no. Besides, I don’t want to keep your lady waiting for her clothes…”  
“Oh, I forgot. Y/N…I apologize for any inconvenience.” He said with something that could only be described as sadness before he walked back to the colony.  
The next afternoon, Jocelyn said all her clothes were clean. There would be no laundry to do today.  
Instead, she had given you a list of shopping that needed to be done as she spent her hours in the Boarding House and that could not be managed at once! As you walked out, reading the foodstuffs, you took note of how pressed and curly her handwriting looked. Something she must have practiced as a child.  
But as soon as you entered the heart of town, bustling with dogs trotting by and men and women scuttling around, some smoke from a near fire for cooking cleared up with wind. You saw Alice amid it. She wore a blue dress with a pink shawl draped over her shoulders, holding a basket.   
She noticed you and walked over. Her large eyes looked blank.  
“I…I can’t marry Silas” she confided in you.   
“What!? Why?”  
“They’re in debt because of Henry paying for me and…he can’t, he can’t afford me. At least not now. We have to pay them back” she mourned. There was a crack in her voice.  
A hundred and fifty bushels of tobacco to purchase a wife was not cheap. And the Sharrow’s were not rich.  
“Alice, follow me” you requested.   
She nodded as you went back to your house and gestured her to follow you inside. You slipped your hand beneath your bed to pull out your reticule. It now felt a little heavier.  
“Alice, here, take this.” You order, handing the pouch to her.   
“What? No, I couldn’t!” Alice begged.   
“Don’t take all of it, just some of it!”  
Alice chewed on her lip as she opened the mouth of the pouch and glanced in. She immediately closed it and handed it back to you.  
“Y/N, it’s your money!”  
“And it’s your future! And I want you to be happy- you can save it up and pay for the debt and marry who you want! I’ve seen you suffer enough here. More than anyone on earth deserves. But this! This is what you deserve!” you insist.  
You open the pouch and pour out all the gold coins you had saved and earned.  
Hesitating, she finally takes half of what you have.  
“You will come to me every day when you can…” you direct sternly.  
“Y/N…”  
“And I’m going to give you half of what I earned. And don’t you dare refuse it. I’ll find the Sharrows farm and throw it in the window if I must!”  
“You’re already giving some to Verity” Alice reminded you, she even looked back at the door, in case Verity’s small, curly-headed figure would magically appear through.  
“Someone among us has to stay a spinster- use what I own to help. I may as well make your lives here bearable.”  
“Oh, Y/N, that’s not true! Someone will come along…”  
Feeling your feet curl under your shoes, a forbidden thought of Samuel’s smiling face and his blue eyes, you shook your head.  
“I…I don’t…It doesn’t even matter. Just take it and save it.” You finish.  
Tears welled up on Alice’s face.  
“You’re too kind, Y/N. I don’t know how I could bear here without you. When you’re ready, tell me about what’s troubling you too. I want to help you too.” she said.  
“Please wait, then I’ll tell everything” you begged before walking back to town to shop.  
And at once you both left, laboring even when evening came.  
Downstairs, Jocelyn entered her thankfully temporary home. Master and Mistress Pierce were sitting by the fireplace, chatting.   
Eyes away.  
Walking over to where your water jug was. Tonight, it would be half of your total payment. She bent over so her cloak would hide her hands, lest her hosts turn around.   
From her reticule she retrieved the bottle she swiped from the doctors. She poured some into the jug, then taking a deep breath, she set it in her right hand with your payment in her left.  
Looking out upstairs into the window, you noticed the sun had dipped down and a dark blue blanketed the small roofs of the colony. Finishing a last good scrub of that always dirty floor, you noticed as Jocelyn walked upstairs and opened the door. She was decked in a light green cloak, complimenting her pink dress and green hat. She looked almost like a pastry amidst this brown. There were shiny pearls bedecking her bodice and ears.  
“Have you supped, Mistress Woodbyrg?” you asked.  
You stood up on your knees, placing the washcloth in both of your hands.  
“Yes, with Governor Yeardley. He’s about to be the groomsman…It will be the most beautiful wedding. There will be more flowers than one could count!” she answered.  
Her eyes scanned over the floor and you almost flinched, feeling some insult rise about it threaten to bubble. But none came. Her eyes returned to you, blankly.  
“I’m happy for you, Jocelyn. It will be lovely” you complimented graciously.   
Though envy bubbled in your head at the image, it was safer to offer the olive branch. You still always remembered Alice’s words. She has her kind moments, you’ll see. It’s what Alice would have wanted you to do. Or what she would have done.  
“Y/N, I have your pay here, it’s a little smaller than normal.”   
She handed over the water jug and a pouch of gold dangling in her fingers.  
No more morsels to steal from my roof, then? You thought bitterly as you rose before you could stop it.  
Muttering a tired thanks, you pocked the payment in your apron and took the water jug.  
“Do you need accompaniment?” she asked softly.  
A little taken aback, you looked up. Her face appeared warm. Despite whom it was, it seemed better than just heading back at night in a hurry.  
“Why, yes. I, uh, I would” you answered.  
“Mercy’s afraid of the dark, it makes her tremble…does it do to you?”  
“A little.”  
You lit a lamp downstairs, handed it to Jocelyn to hold, and both of you headed outside. The sun was in the last stage of setting and a deep blue blanketed all over the town. Once your house was in sight, it was getting darker and the blue over the town was fading to black. Your white coiff seemed very humble next to Jocelyn’s feathered hat atop her head.   
When you reached your home, you heard Jocelyn clear her throat and turned around.  
“May I come in? I…I need a bit of water. I’m sorry to disturb you.”  
“Why, of course,” you said.   
Balancing the heavy jug currently in your grip, you dug in your pocket for your keys and opened the door.  
Once you had settled the jug down on the table and scurried to light candles in the hut, you could feel Jocelyn’s eyes pouring over the lack of any grandeur of your small house. But once your last candle was lit, her eyes shone.  
She stepped around, staring. Not in apathy. But from how her head gently perched and her lips parted, it seemed to be curiosity. She gently touched the petals of a wilted wildflower and eyed an unclean dish. She peeped over to the corner window and noticed a slab of pink sticking out.   
“Oh, those primroses! They keep appearing each morning! It’s James, I bet. He probably doesn’t know Alice is on that farm yet set on marrying Silas, poor man! He’s in love and won’t confess it” you jested.   
You leaned out and admired how the flowers glowed against the reflected candlelight and soft starlight above.  
“Aren’t they lovely?” you said happily.  
After a slight pause, she turned her head to meet yours, a smile placed on her soft face.  
“Very” Jocelyn replied. Her voice sounded a little hoarse.  
You brought out what was Alice’s cup and poured a generous amount of water in. After you handed it, Jocelyn nodded in thanks and drank, her eyes down. Then you poured in only a little. You didn’t want to appear greedy in front of her. Even if she starting to soften to you.  
You took a sip.  
“It’s sweet.”   
“The water from east of the river is very sweet. Thought you would like it.” Jocelyn commented.  
She was smiling larger now, her lips were soft and shining.  
“Do you need anything else? You’re a guest” you asked.  
“No, I…I need to go home.”  
“Alone? And not without me undressing you?”  
“I’m too tired. And I’m a fast walker. No need to fret. I have a lamp.”  
“Oh, well, good night, I’ll see you tomorrow.”  
“Good night,” Jocelyn finished as she shut the door behind her.   
You turned over to get your dinner and practice your writing. But as you reached on the table for one of your books, a sudden sensation hit you. You were dizzy, nauseous and your legs were shaking. Blinking quickly, seconds passed, and it wouldn’t go away. When you tried to pick up the book, it shook in your hands and tumbled down on the floor.   
In fact, it was getting stronger. Your legs were failing you and you grabbed onto the table for support, pulling up.  
A memory of what was said on the ship hit you. What Jocelyn did. And how.  
You pulled yourself on the table, as if climbing, and grabbed the spare cup Jocelyn was given.  
There was only a small lip mark on the edge of the cup. The water was intact. You clutched your throat and shook harder than you could control.  
Breathing hard, you rushed to race out the door. Screams flew out of you.  
“Help me! Someone, please! Anyone! Help Me!” you bellowed with all of your strength.  
It wasn’t much. Only two steps outside and your legs gave out and everything went black.


	5. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have survived, for now. And Jocelyn pays you a visit.

“Come, all you very merry London Girls,  
That are disposed to Travel,  
Here is a Voyage now at hand,  
Will save your feet from gravel.  
If you have shooes, you need not fear  
For wearing out the Leather,  
For why you shall on shipboard go,  
Like Loving Rogues Together,   
Some are already gone before,  
The rest must after follow  
Then come away and do not stay,  
Your guide shall be Apollo!”  
\- Lawrence Price, “The Maiden’s of London’s Brave Adventures”, 1623.

“Miss Y/L/N …”  
You thought you heard his voice.   
“Oh Y/N, please…wake up, be strong again….”  
You wanted to just croak out his name. Your lips parted, and a sound came out. It wasn’t his name. It was only a sound.  
“Miss Y/L/N? Can you hear me? Take this!”  
You could barely see him but a sudden taste that hit your tongue, full of bitterness. Then a drop of water that was brought to you. But no blots of color formed. No more signs of him. Only darkness.  
Sometimes something like a nightmare came across your vision. You thought you saw something, but then it faded before it could devour you. Sometimes there were dreams, sometimes not.  
Then another voice came up. It could have been an hour. It could have been a day. It wasn’t his voice, but a voice. A soft, lilting voice.  
“Oh, dear Lord, please heal this lady. You know she is a dear, kind woman. No one has ever treated me as nicely here, other than my master and mistress of course. But she is a good friend. Your book even says a friend sticks closer than a brother. So, I must beg you, if it is in your will, to heal her from this dreaded and sudden illness. I would be most saddened if she were to die. You have placed me in her life, and unless You have planned so, please don’t take her away from it. Give her health again and wake her up, Amen.”  
The words were flooding outside you when you woke up. You were lying on your bed, Mercy was right next to you. Her pale face and little brown head looked blurry, but you saw her turn her head at once.  
She gave a grin and placed a hand over her heart, leaning to you.  
“Oh, providence is kind! Miss Y/L/N!” she cried, getting up and then pausing. She knew you were too weak to embrace. She pulled herself back.  
Your vision flooded back. You were at home. You felt sticky and sweaty. Your bed was beneath you and you saw you only had your shift on.   
“M…Mercy…what…what’s happening?” you croaked.   
Your throat felt dry from the lack of use.  
“You were found just outside, fainted!” she recalled.  
“Did you find me?” you ask.  
“Oh, it was the Tavern Keeper’s wife, the red-haired woman…she was out walking in the dark to your home to see you, she said when she heard your cries and came a runnin’. Found you right on the dirt, right out! She dragged you in here, ran, and fetched the doctor quick as she could, stayed up all night with you, she did!” she said, almost excitedly. Her eyes were wide as if telling a story.  
“Verity…oh, it was Verity! Mercy…am I dying…If I’m dying there’s someone…I need to…I need to speak to…” you said.   
You knew the one thing you didn’t want to say had to be said to him if your time was running out.   
“You’re only sick. That’s what the doctor says. But you might…I hope you won’t…” she said. Her eyes looked down and she frowned.  
You reached out a hand and touched her cheek.  
“Oh, mistress Mercy, I heard your prayer…and I’m so lucky to have you,” you comforted.  
“I’ve prayed for you every hour I could…my master was with the doctor when Verity was running, so he and my mistress even prayed with me for you in this room for an hour today. I think all of our prayers worked. It was my Master who even got you to your bed the other night, but he insisted on leaving outside when you got changed to your shift, ‘cause you know, you were asleep but it still wasn’t polite, he said!”  
You felt your lip bite and a small laugh escape.  
“Why, Miss Y/L/N, colors coming to your cheeks, even! You’re getting healthy, I know it!” she cheered.  
“How long was I asleep?” you interrupt, a little embarrassed.   
“About a day.”  
Your head hurt and you were dizzy. You groaned from the pain and Mercy fetched a cool cloth from a bucket. You nodded as thanks.  
“Mercy…what did the doctor say about me? What do I have?” you ask.  
Your memory was coming back. And you had a dreaded feeling you knew exactly what happened to you.   
But…it couldn’t be, could it?  
“He says you’re only sick and that’s that. He did get you to swallow some medicine and he says you need more…which…oh dear! I forgot! Now you’re awake! I have to get him! Excuse me, m’am...”  
She gave a curtsy and off she went like a squirrel to a tree. Your dizziness came in and out. You found your arms, while shaky, could pull yourself up. Your stomach felt like it had a stone in it. Even the sight of your food in the corner made it turn and you felt the threat of vomit rise in you.  
A little later, a man entered with Mercy trailing behind him. He was of average height, with dark hair that curled yet was brushed back. His face had hints of scruff with a pale, square head and a sunny smile.   
“Hello, miss. Doctor Priestly at your service,” he greeted.   
He even bobbed his head as if you were a lady. If it weren’t for your weakness, you would have bobbed your head for a curtsy as well.  
“See, doctor! My prayers have worked! I did have faith enough!” Mercy cheered excitedly.  
She grabbed your hand to help you get up to sitting on your bed upright.   
“It seems your faith and my medicine are a powerful team, Mercy. Find your mistress and let her know at once that Miss Y/L/N is awake. She’ll want to know how her servant is, she’s been very fretful for two days for her.”  
Mercy once again scooped her red skirt into her tiny hands and ran out the door. He pulled out a vial from his bag, poured some clear liquid onto a spoon, and fed it to you. It tasted disgusting as overcooked cabbage, but you made yourself swallow it. It was the same bitter aftertaste as the drink you were fed while slightly conscious.   
“Here, two days of rest and this medicine and you will be fine,” he assured you.  
What happened couldn’t be true, it was too insane to be true. You shouldn’t be in this predicament at all. Or were you? There was one way to find out.  
“Doctor Priestly…what’s wrong with me, what am I sick with?”  
“I’ve not told a soul about your condition… for Mercy’s sake.”  
“Mercy?” you asked. “What’s she have to do with it?”  
“I remember when she arrived here. She was an orphan boarded from England sent here to work and make a life for herself. Poor thing had more than one master beat her senseless when she was small. I couldn’t afford her, so Castell took pity on her and placed her under his wing for her protection. He’s almost like her father in an odd way, but he’s still her employer. But that is her life, no family and only drudgery. “  
He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and blinked a lot, coming back to the present.  
“She has a tender heart and it takes very little to vex her. I saw how fond she was of you, so I wanted to rest aside her fears. If I told Castell, he might tell her just to give her an answer. But you and your mistress at least deserve to know the truth.”  
He pulled a chair from the table next to you and spoke in a low voice.  
“You had the symptoms of poisoning from the belladonna plant.”  
“No…but…I…I just can’t…I was poisoned,” you said, finally accepting your dreaded suspicion.   
“And I also noticed...I had kept some for medical and research reasons, and the vial was gone. So, whoever took it must have targeted you. They wanted to harm you. You had a water jug that was laced with it. Luckily, you only had a little bit. If you drank a larger dose or didn’t take this medicine in time, you would have been dead.”  
“Someone stole your belladonna?” you ask.   
Your eyebrows furrow and you look directly at him. Your hands fold neatly at your blanket.  
“Oh, I hope you forgive me, Miss Y/L/N…I should have watched it more carefully.” He begged he turned his head down.  
“It’s…alright, Dr. Priestly. I forgive you. It wasn’t your fault it was stolen” you say.  
You move your hands in front to tell him to calm down and he smiles in response. He’s not entirely unfortunate looking and you feel yourself smile back.  
“Have some water, you’ve been without food or drink for over a day” he suggested, getting a tin cup.  
You drank it up greedily. Sighing and wiping off your mouth, you look back at him, softened.  
“I would prefer to keep this low. Only your mistress and you. News of poisoning would bring fear, someone innocent might go to jail if accused falsely,” he explained.  
You at once felt your stomach turn. The bile was coming back up.  
“A…a jug, anything, I’m going to…” you mumbled.  
He handed you a clay pot and you felt the disgusting feeling of vomit rise out of you and the repulsive smell of it. You put a hand over your mouth defensively as he put away the pot.  
“You are just weak, Miss Y/L/N. Just keeping drinking water and taking the medicine. You will be a little weak, but fine,” he assured.  
Not long after there was a knock on the front door and Doctor Priestly sprung up and greeted with the largest smile you had seen on him yet.  
You saw the pale blue cloak of Jocelyn walk before you and fold open the hood. Her golden curls were tied back with a ribbon just loosely. Your breathing got shallower and your nostrils flared remembering the day on the ship.   
Sure, I can’t let my hair down, but you can. Not a lady anymore, eh? You just proved that you thought angrily.  
“Oh, Doctor Priestly, Oh, I am so glad. Poor girl! How is she?” she asked demurely.  
“She’s weak, but after one day of rest and taking this medicine, she’ll be bright and bonny as ever. I have to tell you Jocelyn…” giving a glace at you, he led her just outside the door to speak with her explaining why you were sick.  
Waiting for a while, you kept squeezing your own hands. You felt your heart beating in your ears. After a few minutes, you saw Jocelyn open the door again, continuing the conversation.  
“Doctor Priestly, may I nurse her, myself? I wish to make amends- it was my own jug and I lost watch of it!” she offered warmly.  
There was a crinkle beneath the doctor’s eyes as she spoke and he leaned a little closer.  
“What a tender heart you have, I’ll leave you with her. Bring me back if there is any sign of trouble. Here is the medicine, I’ll go on and make another, farewell!” he wished, handing her the bottle.  
With a slight hop in his step, he left.   
Jocelyn took a few minutes to be quiet. As she walked up you pulled yourself back, defensively. She held out the medicine poured out a spoonful, offering it to you.  
You hesitated, staring. She could have done something with it too. But you accepted it and led the spoon with your hand to your mouth.   
After a few spoonful’s, the concerned look on her face dropped looking down on you. She looked at the window, checking, and then returned. You tried to glare up with what strength you had.  
“Jocelyn. Who poisoned me?” you ask flatly. You folded your arms.  
“You know what you did,” she spat out.  
“No, I don’t!”  
“You should have drunk all of it.”  
“Jocelyn, why? I have done everything for you! I have cleaned your clothes and room, fixed your gowns, made your breakfasts, and even emptied your damned chamber pot! I have asked for nothing but my pay. You forced me to agree to do it in front of Lady Yeardley. I was not in a place to even tell you to stop you from the way you treated me or even tell anyone. And this is how you repay me? You try to kill me?”  
She was quiet.  
“I’ll report you to Governor Yeardley. Right. Now.” you threaten. You swing your legs over and get on the floor.   
You only took two steps on weak legs when she put a hand before you, and then caught you before you could fell. But as you were crumpled, she led you back to the bed. She bent down to look you in the eye.  
“It would be worthless to speak to him. Look at you and look at me. I’ve dined with him countless times. He’s going to be the groomsman at my wedding. Who is he more likely to believe? A lying, thieving, whoring maid or a lady?”  
She got back up but folded her hands in front of you. Her eyes were low, her round, pale face still, and her pink lips taught.  
“Jocelyn…you still haven’t answered my question. Why did you do it?” you interrogated.  
“Because you’re destroying me. And you’re destroying this colony.”  
“You’re the one who almost killed me! What on earth did I do?”  
“Since you’re a fool, let me tell you. You’re a whore,” she accused. Her face was still but her low voice was biting.  
“Do you mean…with…with your fiancée?”  
She gives you a look. There is a fire in her eyes.  
“Anytime I was with him, I promise you, nothing happened. He never said or did anything to me. He’s a gentleman; he keeps his distance. He is doesn’t love me, he loves you. Jocelyn be reasonable! Mercy says you’re the great beauty of the colony. How could he show any interest in anyone else with you as his intended!?”  
“Your flattery means nothing to me” she cursed bitterly.  
From her cloak, she pulled out your copy of Ovid’s The Metamorphoses.  
“If you have not seduced him, explain this!” she accused.  
“He asked and I just let him borro-“  
She slammed the book into your bed and turned to the very end, where there were a few extra blank pages. Or were. Words were scribbled all over them. You jumped and your legs stung from the force of the book’s weight.  
A pink primrose exactly like the ones on your window was pressed into it.  
“Read it” Jocelyn demanded.   
You felt your dizziness return and your stomach hurt again. You pushed it away. You were shaking your head. This had to be a dream, this had to be a dream.  
“And know this, before you claim that it is false,” she added.  
From her stays, she got out a folded page of paper that listed the business of the Governor's meeting last week.   
Glancing at what was written in the book and the record, it was exactly the same.  
You pulled the book close to you and almost felt your hands and arms shake as you tried to keep it up, pulling to your face. You wanted to be sure every word you saw was real.   
It read:

“My darling, my little nightingale, Y/N Y/L/N,  
With your consent, I must take a moment to confess to you the feelings I have been suppressing for some time. Please do not be afraid of me.   
I love you. I adore you with every inch of my soul. I have never known any woman quite like you. I knew you were different from anyone else from that first day of your arrival, though I wasn’t sure how. Then I knew. You were someone I could talk to. The more I looked at you, the more I couldn’t help myself. You are one of the loveliest maidens I have ever seen. When I think of you in that flower field, how ardently I wanted to kiss you that moment, with the sun shining, the flowers around you, and your sweet smile. I’ve never felt such tenderness and wanting inside me before. I admire every bit of you, my dear friend. You are the kindest, sweetest soul I have ever met. And your courage exceeds that of many men I have known. I still remember the day you spoke with Mr. Sharrow on behalf of Miss Kett and I am still in awe such action even happened.   
I make every excuse just to walk by our colonies walls just to hear you, to see you walk by, just to glance at you. The way you shone when I taught you how to write words, shone with pure joy. Your laughter and singing! Your voice haunts me, haunts my dreams, and my day and I hear it at once with both ecstasy and torment, for I know such tender words, laughter, songs and that joy of your hand’s devotion is a gift, a gift that cannot be for me, but the happiest and most fortunate of gentlemen you choose to wed. How I envy him and hate him, whoever he may be here! I am so ashamed to admit it, but it is true.  
I have given Jocelyn a promise. A promise I must keep, as is the purpose of her journey. Yet each time I think of the day we will be joined, inside I mourn so deeply. This is the reason why I delayed the wedding. I made a pitiful, unmanly excuse about business because you were always in my thoughts. I will never have the privilege of your courtship and time. I must be bound until death to another, upon an agreement of payment I have made long ago. Though I must complete my duty in humility and obedience, know that I wish every morning I awake that it was your beautiful face I saw.  
Jocelyn does not deserve to have her heart broken and her future destroyed. Can you have it in your heart to pity me? To pity her, most of all. It is Jocelyn I must marry, no matter what I may feel about you How could I be so cruel to such a good, honest woman who came here for this one sole purpose?  
I do not know if you even tolerate me. If you despise the air I breathe, then I swear I will never bother you again. But now, I ask you to pray for me, pray for us.   
But know that though such affections I possess can never be acted on, that if you are ever in dire need of assistance, I will help you. Even if you cannot have my hand, you have the protection of anything I have and my actions. If you are ever in need, or your husband, most fortunate of men, or your children even, I will find a way to help you.   
For I and my heart shall always be dedicated to you. I love you so tenderly and know that you will always be my dearest and saddest love.  
Written by him, who is your humblest of servants  
SC”

A shaky smile appeared on your face, though your stomach kept dropping throughout the reading. A small laugh, stifled, came out of you, defiantly. Disorientation washed over you and it was as if your vision blurred for a moment.  
“I must confess, I’m almost impressed. There’s a power between our legs, and at least you’ve learned to use it,” Jocelyn said.  
Setting the book down, almost not daring to read it again, you stared into the open for a bit, but you heard Jocelyn continuing.  
“You cast a spell over him. And it begins ever since he kept speaking with you. So, tell me, they call you the Songbird of Jamestown, yes?”  
Blinking, you looked back at her, voicing a shaky “wh-what?”  
She walked over and grabbed your face, pinching at the mouth. Her face got into yours and you could feel the hot breath come out of her.  
“Did those musical little lips suck his cock and is that why he does everything you insist?” she hissed.  
“H-H-How d-dare you speak such…such lewd things!” you retorted, jerking away, nearly slapping her hand out.  
You nursed the spot on your jaw tenderly. You turned away and saw the book. While Jocelyn was distracted you hid it under your blankets.  
“Jocelyn, he’s going to marry you, whatever he may think of me. Don’t you see what it’s really saying? He’s letting me go. You’ve won.” You reasoned.  
“You may think so. But now he hardly listens to me. He doesn’t do anything I ask him to. No matter what I try. Since your little romp in the flowers. If you are here, you are a threat to me and my marriage.” She said.  
“What are you asking him to do?” you ask.   
You noticed how high your shoulders had gotten to your ears and forced them down.  
She paused, folding her hands in front of her.  
“You don’t understand, Y/N. I’m going to lead him to greatness, for us. For the colony. Wouldn’t you like things to change? Wouldn’t things be better if Samuel was in charge? Not Farlow or Redwick or Massenger?” she interrogated.  
“What’s wrong with Yeardley? And how do you plan on getting it, though? And I…I don’t think you understand, people die playing these games. Do you want to die? Do want Samuel to die?” you ask.  
“Oh, Samuel.” She prodded. “Not Master Castell anymore? That’s a little more intimate, aren’t we? Do you love him?”  
You froze.  
“I know you’re a terrible liar. And I know what they do to liars here when they’re caught.” She added.   
She kept her close distance but remained standing. Her eyes stared right into you, though your head dipped down low and you buried your face in your hands.  
“Do. You. Love. him?”  
Tears stained your eyes. That feeling, burning, and bubbling in the depths of you was suddenly coming out. No matter how much you tried to deny it or ignore it for the greater good, for even your own safety, it was still singing, screaming in the back. Now it was getting louder, and louder.  
“I…I think I do. I…I wish he…if only he was just a farmer, not the recorder, just so I could be with him!” you confessed.   
Breathing in deep, you felt a weight had been freed from you. There was a silence, heavy with what she would say next.  
“Then understand you are what is holding him back. That’s what love is. It holds us back. I’m going to bring him to greatness. I’m going to make him have things beyond even his own understanding. He could be a farmer. Or he could change everything and bring those men down and set things right here.” She explained, towering over you.  
“By controlling him? Making him do things he doesn’t want to? Dangerous things?” you blurted.  
“That’s how men work. And this place is ruled by them. We have to control them if we’re going to survive here as women.”  
“But a harmless soul as his? Control Farlow, all you would like, Massanger, or Redwick, but…Samuel? He wants nothing of treachery, why make him treacherous?”  
“That’s your weakness. You’re still clinging to love, thinking that’s what’s going to save you. I was like you once. I was proven wrong. Love doesn’t save you. It destroys you. And the sooner you let it go, the better you will be. I hope you’ve figured that out. You’re leaving here.” She scolded.  
“To England? The company will send me back. They need to pay back the tobacco pounds on all of us.”  
She then reached in her pocket and pulled out some letters.  
“You know of the communities right outside here? I’ve written to the men of Charles City. Any women who aren’t immediately bound in marriage must go there. And there are at least three men over there are curious about you to be their wife.”  
Not too far for the company but far enough you thought.  
You barely glanced over it. It listed names, possessions, their house, and what they planted. One name, only one name. One name that would stand out. One name to stamp out Samuel’s. But none could. None of them had the name of the one you knew you wanted.   
And who knew who these men actually were like? If you were lucky, they would be loving.  
But at worst, you could be bound to another Henry Sharrow. You fought the urge to vomit again.  
“Tomorrow, you will gather your things. Leave this town. Pick one. Marry him. And stay there.” Jocelyn demanded.  
“I won’t. I won’t do it,” you voiced.  
Jocelyn walked up and hissed at you softly.  
“If you don’t, you are dead.”  
“You couldn’t do that.”  
“I almost succeeded. I have resources, don’t think I couldn’t.”  
Your breath left you and you released a small cry of fear, your limbs nearly froze.  
With all the bitterness and anger you had forced silent inside your soul for weeks, you looked Jocelyn in the eye and spat out “bitch.”  
It wasn’t kind. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t dignified. It was not even mature. But it felt good.  
“Never heard that one before,” she remarked sarcastically.  
You turned around and, though still shaking, you got up on your feet. Jocelyn didn’t raise an eyebrow.  
“Good day, Miss Y/L/N. And a blessing upon your marriage,” she finished with a smile.  
You were determined not to be sent off without the last word. Now you had something. It wasn’t safe to say it, but if you were blessed to never see Jocelyn again, you might as well say it when you had the chance.  
Tugging nervously on your shift you said “this isn’t the first time you’ve poisoned someone, Jocelyn.”  
She froze and glared back at you, she took a few steps, threatening to charge at you like a predator.  
“You little, sneaking slut!”  
“And how is being a sneaking slut any better than being a liar and a murderer?” you snapped.  
Jocelyn froze in her track but continued her fiery glare into your eyes.  
“Tell me, when a man makes a bet that he can take your virginity among his friends, takes it as they watch, and he wins, how much will you believe in love, then? How can you even trust men’s souls, then?” she croaked, now tears were barely going down her cheeks.   
“It’s not men’s souls, Jocelyn. It’s what they’ve done. You’ve been hurt so you shut yourself off to keep yourself safe. And now that you have refused love, you’ve even refused the love that makes you care for others. All you can do is hurt others.”  
You swallowed, got up from your bed, stood up quickly while you had the strength, and interrupted before Jocelyn could interject.   
“You cannot love, you can’t love people or least of all yourself. That’s only because you have been betrayed. You’ve been hurt. But you could have used that pain to help others. Have you talked to Alice about what Henry did to her? Or Verity? You could have helped them. But you have let your pain make you harsh to undeserving people. Good people. Samuel. Mercy, even, and she’s a child with nothing!”   
You took two steps closer to her.  
“But…you cannot help, truly, genuinely help. Only reward people, you think you trust. That’s because all you know to do is hurt. For that, you will never know peace or contentment, and you have more than my disgust, you have my pity.”  
She marches up to you and grabs you by the hair, growling into your ear “leave by tomorrow, or you’re dead.”  
She then brushed any dirt or wrinkles off her dress, set her hat back upon her head, and walked out.  
Alone, you collapsed on the bed. You were done with being brave. You were done with being strong. You wanted to be weak. You let yourself sob and sob.  
You look barely at the letters of these suitors you have never even heard of, asking you for your soul, body, mind, possessions, and even possible children to be owned by them until death takes one of you.   
“The time’s gonna come fer yer freedom and maidenhead whether ya ready fer it or not!”   
Then you look at Samuel’s letter in your book, you press it to your heart, and let your cries continue and continue, gingerly touching the petals of the pink primrose and even noticing the fresh bunch at your window.  
So it…it wasn’t James at all! How could I be so stupid, I’m an idiot…  
Could Jocelyn really kill you? How? The possibilities kept running through your head.  
You had no idea how much money she brought with her but maybe she could hire someone to do it.   
Or she probably already planted one of her possessions in your home. If someone noticed it, they could accuse you of stealing, go to Jocelyn, who’d give her testimony that you stole, give your truth and let it fall on deaf ears and then you would have to make the fatal walk outside the colony walls to the gallows.   
She already fooled you into being poisoned. She could find a way to take and poison your food. Had she even poisoned the food you had when you weren’t looking?   
And you didn’t know about how your physical strength could hold up. Jocelyn was slender and knew nothing of tasks requiring physical extremes. But that didn’t mean if she got possession of a gun or knife she wouldn’t be able to attack you.   
Being at the wrong place at the wrong time could put you at risk. Perhaps she would drown you in the river if you went to do your laundry.   
If she got that book and letter back, she could bring it to the court, make accusations of adultery, and get you hanged.  
Finally, after a while, Christopher returned with Mercy trailing behind him.  
“Mercy…how kind you are…and Christopher…”  
“I asked my Master if I could make this broth for you, and he agreed. He has a kind heart, he does!” she chatted, handing you a cup.   
You swallowed it gratefully, smiling at how for once your stomach did not reject it.  
“He…yes, he does,” you answered. “Speaking of which…where…where is he?”  
“There’s a large trial and many things he must record. He has a busy workday but sends his prayers to you. Now, take twice the dose, Miss. You will be a little weak today, but you should be fine. I insisted the church forgive your absences these next two days so you could recover. You’ll be strong by the day after tomorrow.” Doctor Priestly said.  
He brought another batch of the medicine and handed it to you in a small vial with two spoons.  
You swallowed the two spoonful’s and kept it down best you could.  
“I saw Mistress Woodbyrg come in after a while. Even when she chided me, I thought it a blessing, the bit time I was there.” Mercy reported, folding her hands in front of her.  
You only stared onto your blanket, right down.   
Oh, dear Mercy, you don’t know the half of it and for your happiness, I hope you never do! you thought.  
“Oh, you are so lucky to already be working for her. There is never a lovelier lady! Although, she’s been quite troubled lately. Oh, she frowned so when I worked for her and it vexed me so much! But I’ve been praying for every hour for her, when I could” Mercy chattered, she even folded her hands together and brought it up to her chin dreamily.  
You were quiet for a moment. Mercy worshipped the ground Jocelyn walked on. She was someone perhaps the child wanted to be. But… should she have such a rosy view shattered? Jocelyn seemed to give her meaning and joy in her life. There was a fairy tale princess under her roof, no matter what that princess said or did.  
“Mercy…tell Master Castell…thank you, for allowing you to make this broth and…Mercy, may I please have a bit of parchment, please? And something to write with? There’s…a quill and ink on the table.”  
“How come, Miss?”  
“I’ve…uhm…been practicing writing.”  
“My, what a good skill! How lucky you are to be learning it, how clever you must be oh…”  
There was a weight that you felt dragging you down, and the child took note.  
“Why, what is it, Miss Y/L/N?”  
“I…I just need to try to write. I can’t be idle even when sick…”  
“Why, why yes indeed! As Psalms and Captain Smith do say, one must wake up and be industrious, it’s how we can praise the Lord himself. But…I am so glad you are well.  
Doctor Priestly stood by in the corner, smiling at the sweet words said and observing quietly. Mercy handed you the quill and ink and then knelt by your bedside.  
“I really am. I never had many friends. Mere few. And a lot of them died. And my master is gentle but…we can’t be friends. He gives me my earnings and that’s that. So…I’m just so thankful,” she said softly.  
“I’m thankful to be your friend too, Mercy.”  
She looked up at the smiling doctor, who gestured for her to come, and she left accompanied by him.  
You stared at the parchment and backed it against your book. Your brain was brimming with words. Words that would have explained everything. Most of all, why. But your hand only knew how to write a fe  
You wanted to see him. You wanted to get out of your bed and crawl through the muddy streets to wherever he was and collapse onto him.   
But anger overtook you. It was his own letter that probably confirmed Jocelyn’s suspicions and put you in danger in the first place!  
You wanted to even yell at him, to take that mud, and throw it to smear his lovely face. To take that stick from that day by the river and beat him with it with all of your strength. All for the trouble this lovely letter put you through. If this was a plot and he was working with Jocelyn, then he had betrayed your trust and put you in great danger.   
And if it wasn’t. Jocelyn proved it was his handwriting, after all. Or at least, it was not a forgery. He could have lied through this letter from Jocelyn’s or even someone else’s doing to get you out of your discouragement of him being too deeply involved in the intrigue.  
But…you brain interrupted as you lifted the quill, hands shaking…what if it was?   
If it wasn’t. If he meant every word of that letter, it meant…it meant that he really did see you. You. Humble little you. With ninety women that had just arrived, and he wanted! If nothing stood in his way, the gentlest, sweetest man in all of the colony, if not, even in all of England’s far kingdom or the world perhaps loved you.  
But there was one thing in the way. And it was your life.  
You wished desperately it was a letter with false intentions instead.  
You dipped the quill into the ink as it sat gently on your bed and scribbled out seven words.  
“Goodbye. I will miss you- Y/N Y/L/N.”  
Not painless. But quick and to the point. It dried in a few minutes, the dark purple ink turning into the color of violets. The scrap was hidden in the book. You put it next to the pansy.  
You barely slept that night and spent it packing or pacing.   
Doctor Priestly arrived the next day with new medicine. But the doctor noticed the packed bag resting on the table.  
“Are you alright, Y/N? You’ve lost so much of your color, even after the medicine” he asked.  
“I’m…I’m just sad. I’m leaving. I haven’t been married yet and the company’s insisting I leave to fix that. I have a few marriage offers from Charles City. I have friends here, though. I will miss everyone,” you said.  
You handed him the papers and letter from the men and the doctor nodded in understanding.  
It wasn’t a lie, but some details perhaps he could not be trusted with yet.  
“I’ve heard good things about you, Miss Y/L/N, our dear songbird. We will all miss you too,” he answered, giving you a last spoonful of medicine.  
After he left, Mercy returned with one last cup of broth.  
“I always insist a cup after will do good!” she chirruped.  
“Mercy…I’m going to leave today.”  
“Why?”  
“To…to get married, please send this to your master.” You said, holding out the scrap.  
“Shouldn’t I fetch ‘im, so you can tell him instead?”  
“No! I mean…do not trouble him when he has so much work. I just wanted to say goodbye to him, for…for helping me and Alice. He greeted me and was kind to me.” you explained quickly, though you felt yourself biting your lip.  
Mercy nodded and left quietly, looking at the note with big, confused eyes. You saw a shininess that would bring on tears and she even put her hand over her mouth.  
“Oh, Mercy!” you exclaimed, a sudden wave hitting you.  
You ran up and hugged her.  
“Oh…Miss…Miss!” she cried, letting herself sob too.  
You bit back your tears and whispered to her.  
“Listen to me, never let anyone treat you poorly. Don’t be like me. I’m a coward. Be brave. Fight back with all your strength and…please promise me you’ll do whatever it takes, be happy and safe…” you instructed.  
Mercy blinked, in more confusion, and then hugged back.  
“I…I will miss” she blubbered. She let go and gave you a sad smile and then left.  
Your bags only had what was essential to travel and then some. Your books, your clothes, and your lace gloves, the only luxury the company promised you. And the only luxury it delivered. You even got bits of food, who knew how long the journey would last, the quicker you would leave, the better.   
And even if Jocelyn had poisoned them when you weren’t looking, you decided it didn’t matter anyway.  
You dressed plainly. Looking at your reflection in the window, you did look like you lost your color. Your cheeks had hollowed some. Your eyes had darkened underneath. It was as if you were now a ghost of whoever you were when you entered this house.  
Walking outside, you took the last of the wilted primroses and put it into your apron pocket.  
You walked past the people going about. Past the church, past the tavern, past James beating into a new piece of metal with a loud CLANG, and past the smelly dogs and hogs running through the street freely and housewives adorned in aprons all looking for corn in the market that could be bought today, past the muddy areas you had to hop over, past the nice red doors where men in ruffs and fine cloaks discussed power with soft voices, and towards that opening and the ocean of green before it.   
As you near the entrance, you could make out a cart just near where the graves were marked. It almost seemed as if it planted among the crop of little wooden crosses. It was led by it seemed a brown horse and another man, he was tan, short, stout, and had dark hair and a dark beard with grey streaks. He wore a straw hat and seemed to be chewing on something. He stared out into the open of the green field and the trees just beyond. But he was smiling, and his eyes were beaming like stars.   
Though Jocelyn covered your leave, he did not seem the type to be a hired assassin. It was the cart. Breathing in deeply, you took a few steps to get on that cart that would take you to your new life to forget all of this.  
“Miss Y/L/N…”  
Your breath stopped and you paused. Continuing it, you decided you would not speak to him turned away. You turned your head and looked at him. The one voice you did not want to hear at this time. But you knew you had to. You couldn’t just leave him with just a scrap of paper, as much as you had denied it.  
Blinking away any more tears that may have popped up, you turned around to face him. At least one final time before your new life awaited.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are confronted with a choice and make your decision. Are you read to live with the consequences?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sorry this took a while, this is on Tumblr but I forgot!)

“Master Castell,” you began, breathing in deep.

He was dressed in his yellow clothes. The same he wore on that first day. It was oddly poetic.

“Master Castell…I’m leaving,” you announce plainly.

“I know, I got your message as soon as I left the assembly. And I saw you walking by I…I…why are you leaving?” he asked, he folded his hands behind his back politely.

“I was not…successful here. The company has a price on me that must be repaid. I came here to be married. And I have other, Uhm, offers in the next community over,” you say.

You look down on the dirt. It is hard to look at him. You do not want to. You did not want this pain.

“But Y/N…are you well? You’ve been sick. The other day you were barely there, it seemed. I knew not if you would even live and now…you are walking and talking. And now you’re going to leave the next day?” he asked.

You swallowed hard, “Doctor Priestly says I’m fine.”

“Look at your bags, they’re touching the mud! You look like you can hardly carry them! Something has happened to you, please tell me!” he begged.

“Please leave, Samuel,” you ordered him, you feel a crack in your throat.

“What, why? Have I…Y/N…are you leaving because…of me? Have I been cruel? I promise, if I have, it was an accident!”

“Don’t play games with me…don’t play pretend and then act like you’re sorry…” you protested.

He was right about your bag. Its weight feels unbearably heavy now. You dropped it, sighing from the release. Your breathing feels shakier.

“I’ve…I’ve cried so much these few days, don’t m-m-mind me…I’m just weak and womanly, you know, and I keep trying to be strong but…” you mumbled, tears finally breaking out.

“There, there, shhh…” he offered

He ran up as you -finally releasing those suppressed tears.

Then he takes you in his arms and embraces you.

It is surreal, the feeling of his arms around you. It is too close. Your body stiffens from how close you are to him, unused to such physical intimacy from a man. His warmth and musky scent of ink and tobacco were overwhelming.

As much as you wanted to toss him aside, to throw your fists at him and scream “I hate you!” from how angry you felt at everything, at how angry that his letter put you into such danger…you could not.

The cart driver walked up and asked, “is the lady alright?”

“She’s just upset. She’s saying her goodbyes.” Samuel assured him, with a gesture of peace.

Feeling embarrassment from crying in front of a stranger, you turn up to see the driver. He tipped his straw hat at you as you wiped your face with your sleeve.

“Well, jus’ let me know when she is ready,” he ordered, lighting up a tobacco pipe and smoking.

He walked out into the fields, noting you both and leaving to give room for privacy

You saw Samuel watch him until he walked away and then led you to stand aside, near to where the graves stood like crosses growing on the field. Where no one else about town could see.

“Are you planning to leave or is the company sending you? Was this your choice?” he asked.

“Yes! But…no, not actually, no, no, no because…b-because…neither, because…because…” you fretted, the words were failing to come out of you.

There was one thing that would explain it all. Or explain as much as he needed to know. As much as would keep you safe before you left, and he was wedded.

“I’m doing it for your good and for mine too,” you informed him.

You pulled him away and then got into your bag and pulled out the copy of Ovid, flipping the pages to the letter in the back.

Samuel’s face turned pink and his jaw fell open slightly. He folded his arms and covered his mouth.

“Samuel…did you actually write this?” you asked.

“Yes…I was going to give it to you when you were better and…I lost it. Y/N, how did you find it?”

“Did you really mean it, every word?” you interrogated, ignoring the question.

He paused and then answered very softly, “yes.”

“So…this isn’t a trick or a trap? Something that could get me hanged?” you continued.

“Y/N…I meant every word.”

“You see, I have to go. It is too dangerous to be here. And even if this letter weren’t found, I’m the one standing in the way of you and everything you’ve been promised,” You explained.

“Y/N…I’m so sorry. It was on my desk in my house among my personal things. I hid it and locked it away. I never thought anyone would…”

She must have snuck into there and retrieved it.

You blinked your eyes quickly, looking up at him softly.

“I will miss you so much, you were the best part about Jamestown.” You blabbered, holding the book close to your chest.

“As were you, Y/N. I wish you to stay, but if you want to leave, you can leave. I could…I could visit you. Give you a wedding present See your husband. See your children. See you happy and smiling. Like you used to be. Help you if you needed it…”

Remembering Jocelyn’s threats, you shook your head.

“You can’t…you can’t visit me. I can’t risk being seen with you at all. This is the last time we will ever talk to each other,” you assured.

“Y/N…before you leave, tell me…do you feel the same?” he questioned.

You paused Your head lowered to the ground.

“Goodbye, Samuel,” you lamented.

“Just know, every last letter of that is true, Y/N, ” he mentioned, pointing to the book.

You turned your back and walked forward to the cart.

You paused before getting on it. You pulled out the letter and looked at it, though you had reread it a few times, still processing it, there was one phrase that struck you now. A phrase you remembered from Samuel’s words.

“If you are ever in dire need of assistance…” 

You looked at him, the letter, and the cart. Your legs shook from inside as you walked to the driver and shyly requested “Sir, go on without me.”

“Are you sure, miss?”

“You have been paid already, so there’s no need. Go home. I am staying here.”

You turned around to Samuel as you heard him whistle at the horses and click his tongue as a signal to move.

Samuel’s face began to lighten, and you saw his frown turn to a smile as you walked back to him.

“The real reason I was leaving…. I was just afraid. I am afraid, now. But I’m not going to run. I’m not going to hide. I’m going to stay, and I’m going to fight. I won’t just sit by and let the worst things here happen…just…you said in the letter if I ever needed help…” you began.

“Yes?”

“I need it…I…I’m in danger. That was the real reason I was leaving.” You confided.

“Is someone threatening you?”

Stomach cramping, you kept eyeing around you in case anyone was nearby.

“Is it possible to go somewhere private?” you pleaded.

“Of course, there’s a place around the fort. Where the forest begins,” he offered, pointing to the trees.

The sun was moving into the later afternoon, its bright yellow glow drowning the village now turning everything a little orange. There was a small smell of cooking fires preparing suppers across homes.

You both walked around the fort and then to the opening of the forest beneath some trees. The wind whistled around some trunks that fluttered the leaves on their heads in answer. The bushes were high enough that most heads couldn’t see you. You felt the crunch of sticks beneath your feet and the footfalls of rabbits, expecting hunters.

“It involves someone you know…You will want to sit down…” you began quietly.

He sat down on the grass, sticks creaking beneath his weight as he rests on his knees. You lay down, feeling the soft dirt and smelling the earth around you, sitting on your knees as well.

You take a minute, then your eyes met.

“First of all, you must promise that you believe every word I say. I’m not making any of this up. I’m not saying this for any reason or plan of my own accord or yours. I am not lying in order to spread harm to people. I only want to save myself right now. I’m in danger. Someone’s threatening to kill me.”

“Who…who is it?” he asked.

Pausing, your fists clenched. Heart slowly picking up speed again, you dared not back away from looking into his eyes.

“Jocelyn Woodybrg,” You answered flatly. “She found the book with the letter. Then she poisoned me.”

“Jocelyn?”

You took a deep breath in, all of it seeming surreal

“That was why I was sick. She poisoned my water. I could be dead now if it weren’t for Verity. Then after I woke up, she confronted me. She said since I was her maid and because she had befriended the governor, no one would believe me if I reported it. I was shown the letter from the book. Samuel, I swear to you, I never saw this letter or knew of it until she showed it to me…”

Swallowing again, you saw that although his brows furrowed, Other than that he seemed frozen, his blue eyes wide.

You continued, “she said she had arranged the cart and contacted men who might be interested in marrying me in the town over these past weeks. I had to leave or else…she would find a way to destroy me!”

You backed down, your hand gripping onto your skirt. Not even believing the words that were coming out of you. A couple of tears returned. But it felt amazing to finally tell someone. An inhale long denied came through you, as if finally gasping for air after swimming underwater for ages.

He handed you a handkerchief again to wipe off tears and snot now filling your nose from all your crying. You kept twisting it in your hands as you spoke.

“I…I know it…it all seems ridiculous. But…you have to believe me. I’m not lying. I’m not making this up to make her look bad in front of you. I thought if I told anyone, they would just think I’m saying these things out of jealousy and…it would be useless,” you said.

“I believe you, Y/N. I believe you! You already have my sympathy and my admiration.”

“Admiration?” you ask. Your head tilted a little.

“Things like these break people. Make them cruel. But you seem yourself. And you could have held that pain in, you could have run off and not consider asking for help, but you’re asking for it now. I believe you. You don’t have to let that worry torture you anymore…” he sympathized.

“She gave me a choice, leave here, or die. She made a threat, and she will act on it. She’s proven it’s possible for her to kill me. I…I only want you to understand what she has done to me and this…this side of her.”

“She wasn’t like that when I met her, years ago. I could have never guessed she was capable of such acts. Y/N…I’m so sorry that I let this happen,” he said.

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.” you comforted.

It then hits you.

“Mercy…do you remember the time she struck Mercy? Has anything else happened between them?”

“Jocelyn’s always on edge with the poor girl…and then she turns around and is cheerful as ever. And Mercy never complained about anything to me…not that she would. Mercy’s too used to cruel people, poor soul, and you know how the child worships Jocelyn if you ask her.”

“Where will Mercy be by now? Perhaps I could ask her some questions, she could know something. That could give everyone proof and no one would think I’m making it up. Oh, where on earth would she be…” you babbled, your eyes darting with your racing thoughts.

“She’s in my house!” he replied.

“How do you know?”

“She lives and works there, of course!”

You both smiled. You feel it grow, curving up- almost like stretching a limb. It is a little painful from lack of use but present.

“Y/N…thank you for telling me…but there is one thing I have to be sure of before I do anything else…” he whispered.

There was a rustle from a few more rabbits scurrying away. A few birds let out long, descending notes above you.

“Y/N…do you…tolerate me?” he asked, backing away a little bit.

“Tolerate?” you ask, your voice squeaks a little and you duck your head, avoiding his eyes. You notice his cheeks growing pinker.

“I…you have read the letter” he turned pink “you understand how it is I…I feel about you. And I’ve promised to protect you, which I will always do. Y/N, all I need is an answer. If you don’t feel the same about me, I will still help you, but I will never bother about it again. But…do you feel the same?”

You looked up at him, almost pulling the handkerchief apart.

“Y-y-yes” you stuttered out timidly.

You went red and held your face in your hands. The little cloth fluttered to the dirt. Laughing a little, you returned it with its brown stains.

“Oh my goodness, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t believe I…I’ve said it to you, please, oh, I’m so embarrassed. I love you so much, I’ve worshiped you the moment I saw you, isn’t that silly?” you prattled, overwhelmed.

“It’s not, Y/N…I’m….I’m happy you do.”

He gently takes your hand and rubs on it a little bit. You savor the feeling, warm and smooth. You feel a few cold rings press into you, but not too hard, and you both sit there a while. Though you notice a ring for the engagement is still there. Reminding you, like a little demon.

A small breeze picks up and you feel its coolness. It becomes sunnier.

“I can’t believe, I actually love someone who loves me in return! I thought it’d never happen!” you say.

He pulls you to him and embraces you for a bit, then you both stand up and he presses his forehead to yours gently.

“Can I…Can I kiss you?” he asked.

Freezing a little bit, you looked around. No one seemed to be watching. There were no movements anywhere. Not even from the rabbits.

Breath hitched, you gulped and said “You’ve made a promise to her…”

gesturing to the engagement ring you saw in his hand and fiddling with it.

“I’m…learning more about her. I’m not even sure if she loves me. But you love me. And I love you. And we may not have this moment again. We’re safe here.”

You nodded. “You may.”

He pulled you close and kissed you very sweetly. It was odd and wet, but beautiful. He barely finished one when he went in for another deeper one.

You pulled back for a bit.

“We…we can’t!” you say, pulling away, though laughing a little like a child stealing a pastry.

“Just one more, please!” he begged.

“Alright!”

So he pulled back for a third and you let him. You smiled and he gently caressed your cheek.

“Thank you…Y/N…for indulging me.”

“You’re a fine kisser, I was the one indulged! Could you…could you walk out first…I will follow...let’s not give anyone reason to talk…” you suggested.

He took both your hands and kissed them “I will”

The gesture made you grin wider again and his eyes were bright.

“Thank you, dear Samuel.”

“I could hear it all day if I could!”

He let your hands go and walked back albeit with a slight hop.

Waiting for as long as you could, you took in the sun now shining. You heard bugs and the small lizards climbing the trees. Laying down, you saw as the trees rustled above you and clouds floated slowly. You wanted to stay here forever.

You knew you had to return. But you took your time tracing your lips delicately and wondering if all of this had happened.

After you were sure enough time had passed, you walked back.

Once you were sure it was the time of the meeting in the church, taking Samuel with it to record the events (with Jocelyn in the audience knowing every small event that happened here as a hawk) you knocked the door of the Castell house.

Mercy answered it, with a broom in her hand, and jumped, letting out a squeal of surprise.

“Oh, Y/N! Y/N!” she cried with joy.

She ran over and hugged you, and you smiled, hugging her back.

“Shhhh, Mercy, I need you to stay quiet!”

“How can I be quiet when there is such joy! But…why are you here? Shouldn’t you be away by now?”

“Mercy, I’m here to see you! May I come in?”

“Please!”  
It was rather simple: wooden and light with a large table as soon as you walked in, a little vase stood in a corner with a few white flowers on top of a chest. You saw a large table in front of you as you walked in.

“Mercy, I’m…I’m going to stay. I’ve rejected the marriage offers.” You told her as she pulled up a chair.

“You aren’t leaving! Oh, what happy news! What a heavenly day!” she cried.

“Mercy, yes I’m staying. And I have a few questions to ask you…could you sit down for a bit?”

“Yes, I can!” she said, settling herself into a chair. Wiggling a bit with excitement.

“How are you, Mercy?” you ask.

“Today, I am quite well. This morning God has given me another day to live and so every day I wake up I am thankful.” She answered.

“That is good, and Mercy… do you enjoy working for Miss Woodbyrg?” you asked.

“Oh yes, I have never had a Mistress before! And as beautiful and good as Mistress Woodbyrg is- I could have married her myself!”

“Even when she struck you?” you asked.

“I…I deserved it. Sometimes she would chide me about my mouth but…it is a fault, and I should learn to control it. She had her moods, yes, but she is a kind, sweet, dear lady!”

“How has she…how has she felt since being here? Has she acted strangely?” you ask.

“She…she doesn’t like it here. She doesn’t seem happy with anything. When she asked me to change the sheets on her bed to be clean- this was the very day she arrived, see- I told her they were washed this morning. Clean as can be. And she frowned! Thinking clean sheets as dirty, can you imagine! But she is so troubled, it seems…”

“Troubled? How come?”

“She says she has trouble sleeping! So the master asked me to stay the night a few times to attend her. I saw her, middle of the night on her chair and there was something in her hands- it was belladonna. She has been taking it to ease her pain to sleep!”

She paused a little, frowning.

“I don’t know if I should have said that. There are so many things I am to say and not to say it gets a little confusing.”

You slowed your breath.

“Really? Isn’t it poisonous?”

“That’s what I told her, but she said it wasn’t no harm and was helping her sleep, but I said I couldn’t sleep as long as she was troubled and she sent me away to my room.”

You wondered if you could trust her. To tell one other soul the truth. Perhaps.

“Mercy I…I may have seen her with the belladonna too, as I was working with her…do you think me a gossip?

“If I am honest, a bit…”

You smiled a little “I’m just worried… I wanted to be sure. I just…I just needed to hear something from you. I wanted to be sure it was real and not my imagination.”

“What is it, miss? Is something troubling you too?”

“Mercy…I’m just scared because…your mistress…doesn’t like me.”

“But you’re so good to everyone, miss! Why shouldn’t she?”

“No matter what I do…I can’t get her to stop hating me…” you confess.

“Well, she prayed for you! I saw it myself. But I prayed for you, even more, just to be sure.” She added.

You decided to leave it at that.

“I must be going…” you finish.

“But Miss…even if our mistress has her little fits of anger it’s only because she has pain. And even if she doesn’t like you… you’re still a kind lady, in my eyes.”

You smiled and said a simple “thank you, Mistress Mercy.”

She gave her wildest smile at that and walked you outside.

Then there was the next step of your plan, hurry home. Some people glanced to see you running back with a full sack. Joy and that odd mix of anxiety and certainty gave strength to your arms and you carried it as if it were nothing.

You went into your home, thankfully undisturbed by any presence since you left. Dropping the sack, shutting the door, locking it, and shutting the window, you set to searching.

You looked among the food and pots. You looked under the table, under the bed, blankets, and pillows.

Something under your pillow was shining too bright to be a crumb of food or hair.

Looking carefully, you saw it as a pearl earring.

It was Jocelyn’s, no doubt. She had planted and planned your fate had you refused her ultimatum.

Now came the time to wait until the next church service tomorrow.

You dressed simply, washed your face with water, and taking a few careful bites of bread and fruit, and drinking milk from one of the goats. You could not seem weak to anyone and your appetite was returning.

As the church bells rang, you took the pearl earring in your hand and clasped it tightly. People gathered in and you followed. The familiar sight of brown wooden walls, pews, and the altar that seemed still despite everything that had happened. Though a few curious faces turned to look at you.

People went to you and said “oh, Miss Y/L/N! You are well again!” Every face, even a few who weren’t familiar, smiled at the sight of you. It was like being surrounded by a flurry of concerned chickens. The church groaned as feet shuffled your way.

And at that moment you saw Jocelyn’s blonde head turn.

Now, if you wait forever, this will never be done. Not with everyone in town here.

“Oh, Miss Woodbyrg! You left something at my house.” You said.

Her reaction to your appearance was that of large eyes and a slightly lowered jaw, only showing a few her teeth. Her eyes scattered away from you, briefly, as if figuring out what she could say.

“Misstress, when you were nursing me the other day, as you were so kind, you forgot something by accident! Allow me to return it to you- you must have dropped it!” you insisted loudly.

With as long and clear a movement as you could, so everyone going into the church could see, you handed the earring back to her, placing it in her hand.

“I’m glad you have your earring back!” you chirruped.

Her nostrils flared.

“Oh Miss Y/L/N, as am I…and what of your…your proposals?” she asked.

You heard the footsteps of the minister make his way; the service would begin soon.

“I only wish to stay here. Seeing I’ve made a name of myself and there are plenty of men. Will you need my services tonight? I can also check my house, perhaps nursing there may have been more things you have forgotten?”

“Oh, no, Miss Y/L/N you can…you can be dismissed from my service. I…I wish you to rest and…and find yourself a proper husband in that time,” she said.

Her face was still frozen, though her cheeks were getting redder and the slight scowl couldn’t lie.

You smiled wider and wider; it was easier to focus on the sermon today. People continually looked at you, hoping you were well.

And as you knelt to pray, you remembered Mercy’s words, the simplicity of her gratitude in just living. Things that a week ago perhaps you took for granted.

“Please…give me one more day…one more day to breathe…one more day…”

Once you returned home, you ripped the back page of Dante. Looking at the table, you saw the pen and ink you had borrowed thankfully still remained. Dipping in the pen, you wrote:

“MERCY SAW HER WITH POISON. ASK HER. BURN THIS” in your shaky, clumsy handwriting.

It would be better to wait. Perhaps tomorrow there would be less business in the evening for the church meetings. Once you were sure it was the right time, the sun dipping into the evening, you hurried to the meeting hall to the corner on the far right where Samuel always sat with his book, scribbling away. You could hide the note for him to find.

The next evening came and your heart hammered as you prayed Jocelyn’s wandering eyes would not search his records. But as you passed the Castell house with its door open, you noticed Mercy sweeping.

A “hello” barely escaped your lips when you saw her suddenly stand still. She swayed for a little, barely able to hold the broom.

Then she collapsed on the floor.

Letting out a little scream you ran to her.

“Mercy! Wake up! What’s wrong!?” you asked.

“Miss Y/L/N…I…I’m so sorry, I…I just feel so…so horrid…” she mumbled, there were a few tears and she was shaking.

With all your strength, you pulled her to her feet, noticing a little curtain with a small room, just enough for a servant, you dragged her there and placed her on the bed.

“Mercy stay in bed, I’ll be back,” you promised.

Lifting your green skirt, you ran out. Eyes searching, you noticed Silas looking at the butcher’s wares perhaps for the Sharrow’s supper.

You shook his shoulder and said “Silas! Do you know where the apothecary is?”

Feeling the panic in your voice he replied, “Miss Y/L/N? Yes, I do!”

“Please get him at once, hurry! Mercy’s sick-she could be dying!”

“Should I bring Master Castell as well, miss?”

Pausing a little, you said, “yes…yes, of course!”

He dipped your head, offering “Miss Y/L/N…you were a great help to Alice…she wouldn’t be here, in body or spirit perhaps if it weren’t for you, and…and I don’t think I would be either, thank you” before bounding away.

You immediately fetched some water, brought it into Mercy’s bedroom. and lapped off her forehead With a cloth

“Mercy…oh, Mercy…can you hear me?” you wonder.

“It’s…spinning…everything spinning…” she mumbled.

You untied her cap to cool her off, brushing out her long, wavy hair with her fingers. It was incredibly beautiful, thick and the color of a dark chestnut tree. If only she did not have to tie it beneath a cap all day long.

“Mercy, stay awake, please stay with me…please don’t pass out!” you begged.

But then a memory struck you. This was not too different from your condition a few days ago.

Running with all your strength and newfound anger, you went home and returned with a bit of the medicine Priestly had given you. It was only a little from what was left in that vial, but it was enough. Rushing back, huffing a little from all your activity, you went before Mercy on her sickbed and tipped the vial to her small mouth.

“Take this…”

“No…I need to rely on…God…if my faith is strong enough…he’ll save me…” she mourned.

“Mercy, I…I think God would want you to take it. I think you caught my sickness. This saved me and…I don’t want to lose you, why else would God give it to me first? It’s a sign, Mercy …so please take it!”

You lifted it to her lips and the girl swallowed a little obediently.

“Mercy…tell me at once…do you remember…when were you with Mistress Woodbyrg?” you asked nervously.

“The other day…I just asked her if the belladonna was helping…with her sleep…and she told me not to talk of it…and…and I said I was just worried…and I have to talk of a thought if it consumes me…do you understand?”

Your heart raced, all you could think was no, no, no, no, no…it couldn’t be…but, she can be like that…you found that out already…

You nodded.

“I understand, Mercy…”

Doctor Priestly entered in a few minutes.

“Doctor, I leave you to examine her but…I suspect she has the same symptoms I did…” you explain, holding out the medicine in your hand.

“I gave her this medicine to be safe…”

“Quick thinking, miss, thank you! Could you…could you strip her down to her shift? I’ll…. I’ll leave the room…” he walked out a bit.

You undid Mercy’s apron and pulled her dress over her head then laid her down. The girl was very slight, like a thimble, and she did not resist. She was only barely conscious, holding on with the medicine.

You laid her down and then walked out, waiting for a while as Priestly spoke with her and examined her. You sat at the table, trying to listen to the sounds outside to distract yourself, wondering how on earth you would explain to anyone what you were doing in a man’s house unaccompanied.

Doctor Priestly returned.

He looked at you and nodded his head with a worried look.

You handed him the rest of the medicine and said you had to leave. But once you left the house, Samuel was running up with Silas.

“She’s sick?” he asked, eyes wide with worry.

Silas bowed to you and ran off to carry on with his evening duties.

You nodded and before anyone else could catch you, you passed the note to his hands.

“The same as me,” you confirmed before you ran away.

You wanted no reason to give anyone suspicions about you two. The least you could do right now was pray and wait.

That evening, Samuel made sure Mercy was peacefully sleeping by the time it would be dinner. He was going to din with his fiancée. Or that was what she thought. That was what was normal.

She walked into his house to find there was no smell of cooking. And his face did not look warm. There was no Mercy either. Only a small, soft snore coming from her closed room was a sign the servant was there at all.

“Is the supper ready?” she asked coolly.

There was no answer. Samuel stood in the middle of the room, his hands behind his back and his eyes like steel.

“You can’t let your maid sleep when there’s a meal to prepare.”

“I can’t have supper with poisoned food a maid ate…Jocelyn…what were you doing with belladonna?” he asked sternly.

“Was…was Mercy spreading something false?” she asked.

“Jocelyn…please tell me the truth, yes, Mercy fell sick. Christopher said it was poison. And I learned you had it. What is it belladonna for?”

“I…I needed it.” She answered.

“Why would you use it on a child who poses no threat to you?”

“I…I must have…have dropped it. I needed it to sleep.”

“The symptoms matched Y/N’s. When I asked Priestly, he said she was poisoned too. I don’t see how attacking both of your servants would have helped you sleep.”

“She…just wouldn’t… would not keep quiet that I had it!”

“Why didn’t you tell her you were finally at peace then? That you were sleeping well. Is it her fault that you kept saying you were worried and kept the thing with you? Why were you keeping belladonna in the first place? Do you really need it to sleep or is it something else…are you lying to me? Who else are you trying to poison.”

Jocelyn backed a little bit. Then she folded her hands in front of her, calm as ever.

“See, Samuel…if the Marshal was out of the way- Think of how many people would be help. How they would love it once you were governor.”

“Jocelyn, if you were caught, you would have been hung!”

“I would not have! The men here are corrupt, they’re going to ruin everything and everyone! You should know that better than anyone.”

“Well, what about Mercy? Or even Miss Y/L/N? How could they ruin the town? What would people here think of a woman who poisons her servants?”

“Miss Y/L/N had to be taught a lesson. She…she’s mad for you, Samuel. You’ve…you hurt me! You hurt me when you mention her name!”

She walked toward him, backing him before the fireplace.

“And you retaliate by trying to kill her? Jocelyn, I chose you to marry. I even told her in private that I chose you for my wife. How can I marry a woman who tries to kill any person I talk to? Would you have hurt her if you knew that?”

“As long as she’s here, as long as she can even look at you, I know you’ll never be mine and…she’s going to ruin you,” She spat softly.

“Ruin me? How?”

She pushed him down to a chair.

“Little Y/N won’t give you anything. Do you know what she even told me when I finally asked her about you?”

She touched the sides of his face to look right at hers.

“She said she wished you were a poor farmer and not a recorder so she could be with you! What will that entail, hmm? Think of what that means. No house, no money, nothing but the dirt and plants and heat and work when Massenger, Farlow, and the rest destroy everything. How could you live like that?”

He stood up a little more, he took her hands but pushed her away, lifting from his chair.

“Jocelyn, when I met you, I thought I loved you. You were kind. You cared about others. I thought when I paid your passage that I was agreeing to marry that woman I met in Oxford. But you’re not the woman I thought you were.”

He let go of her hands. But she didn’t keep her distance.

“Don’t you want to rule over everything you see? Don’t you want to change things here? See what kind of leader you would be …”

“You mean, what kind of leader you would be…”

She paused.

“We could work together…I could make you like a king…we could be happy…and I love you”

She moves closer, touching his face, and kisses him. By instinct, Samuel kisses her back. Something about her was so attractive and her kissing was indescribable.

“And…just imagine the wedding night with me…she could not please you as I could, Samuel. And…we do not have to wait until then…Technically we are married now. I could show you what it would be like, starting tonight”

She kept kissing him and moved her hands underneath his clothes, finding the buttons.

He squinted his eyes. She was cool and soft. His lower body felt tight and hot.

But he thought of Mercy, asleep in her room a few feet over. Just a few steps ahead of death. He thought of Y/N, darling Y/N, crying and afraid to even tell what happened to her.

Who would be next? Was it worth this one moment of pleasure?

Fighting the heat rising in his body, he pushed her away gently.

“Don’t touch me, please” he asked.

“But I know you like it, I know you like danger, I know you like fun…and looking there, I know you like me,” she purred glancing to his breeches.

Her hands lowered from his chest and seemed to go to the seam of his pants. Resisting his own arousal, he finally pushed her away.

“I asked you to stop!” he said.

“You don’t understand, Samuel…pleasure, safety, change…!” she said. As she stepped forward, he stepped back.

Breathing in deep, his hands shaking a little he said “the money has been paid, I promised I would pay for your passage here and it’s been covered, the company won’t care. I talked with the governor today. I wanted this to be done quietly and peacefully. And he gave me his consent.”

He slipped off his engagement ring and placed it on his desk away from her.

“I refuse you, Miss Woodbyrg. You’re free now,” he said.

“You could be a king with me!” Jocelyn argued.

“I think I would rather be a farmer. Now please leave,” he finished.

Once he thought his heart would stop racing, right before she turned the door, she looked at him and said:

“The slut will die for what she has done to us. To the colony. She wants to stay here, then she’ll die here.”

Samuel’s stomach dropped as she shut the door with an odd quietness. But her words still echoed in the room. If he had to help Y/N like she asked him to, he had to act fast.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You have decided to stay...but how will you survive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I make up an origin story for our recorder and we hear a bit of it. We even see Alice and more of Mercy. Enjoy!

A long night of thinking always calls for a pipe.

Pulling out his longest pipe, Samuel took out a spare piece of paper and began to write down everything as he sat down at his desk. It was dark and cicadas chirruped beyond his walls. Sometimes he heard a faint noise from Mercy as she slept. Blissfully unaware. Once her eyes would open, the poor girl would have to adapt quickly. But he had to adapt now.

He pulled a bit of flint and lit the fire for his pipe. He smoked as he thought deeply. Staring at the words on the paper before him.

A bit of smoke went past his nose as he considered what he read.

How could Y/N be kept safe at all…  
"Could she be sent to live in another town without having to marry anyone?"

But that was the point of staying- she chose to stay here. To not give up the life she had in the main town. And that was what Jocelyn tried to do in the first place.

"Find someone here to marry her."

Perhaps marrying another man would be better. Helpful. Wiser. But his stomach turned sour and the back of his eyes burned at the thought. Maybe it was selfish. But that idea of some man- like the blacksmith, or Christopher or anyone sweeping her off her feet and carrying her away was unreal. He kept blinking to remind himself that the image of such a marriage was not real. What was real was that moment they had in the woods. He felt himself blush at the memory. Her lips and how they matched his. The way she smiled. How soft she felt when she embraced him and how he could feel her heart pick up during the second kiss.

So no, sending her to another man was not an option that he could live with.

He dipped his quill into ink again and wrote down a few more ideas.

"Could Jocelyn be reported?"

There was no evidence to report other than Y/N’s word. Mercy would never blame Jocelyn for anything and would never believe that her beloved mistress poisoned her. Doctor Priestly knew his poison was missing, and the symptoms. But there was no proof Jocelyn took it. And she would get rid of the poison or put it back.

What if there was a trial? At best, she would be imprisoned for her actions. But Jocelyn was mercurial, she could charm people. She was on good terms with the Governor. She nearly seduced him minutes ago.

But at worst, he would be punished for spreading falsehoods. Jocelyn would be unscathed. And she could get away to do to Y/N whatever she wanted to do

"Hire a soldier to protect Y/N?"

It might look silly, but it was worth it. Though people might ask questions. The solider himself didn’t have to talk if paid properly. No matter how expensive it might be, he had to have Y/N safe. Anything. Anything that would make her safe. Please God, keep her safe.  
But…how long would the soldier last?  
The money would run out eventually. Then the soldier would run away, and his darling would be vulnerable.

Vulnerable unless someone was there. Someone who could always be there. The solider was the best choice but…there was one more option to consider.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Hardly leaving your house, you were scared to go anywhere or do anything alone. You made your choice and your fate would be sealed.

You didn’t know what method Jocelyn was planning. You only knew you had to defy it somehow. And even though you had to settle for life as a hermit in the colony, you were alive.

What choice had you? Who knew what Jocelyn would do and how she would act next Except for church, you could hardly go anywhere. You knew the second you were alone, it meant danger. Somehow. Even the walk to church and back, your eyes were peeled around everywhere, and you walked quickly. When you entered the house, you slammed the door shut. Pressing your back against it, you started panting. Then you slid down to your floor.

Stomach rumbling with hunger, you only took a few bites of your safe bread and drank a bit of goat’s milk. It didn’t stop the rumbling. But you didn’t want to risk anything. No food you ate felt entirely safe. After the milk hit your stomach you waited. Nothing happened, and you exhaled deeply.

Perhaps… there was one way. A way to have protection after all. But there was something you would need. Even if you did die, you knew it would not be in vain. You would beat her at her own game.

You had to do something. Fast. You had to make friends here. Allies. And powerful ones.

That afternoon as soon as the second church service was done, you looked for the tall brown head of Lady Yeardley. She always carried her Bible with her clutching as tight as if it were a shield. But her grip loosened as she noticed your polite curtsy and called her name.

“Oh, Y/N, what is it?”

Her husband chatted away with the minister. Oblivious.

“I…I would like to wonder since you are the most devoted woman out here in all our colony…what are ways I can be closer to God?” you asked, eyeing the book.

“Well, prayer, devotion, and reading of scripture daily…Y/N, your devotion to your faith is admirable. Even if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, my child, you can move mountains,” she answered kindly. Her eyes warmed to you.

“I just…I have…. I have so many fears and worries, I would like to find some comfort and peace with God. Since no one else here is a better Christian lady then you, I just…wondered how you have such peace?” you flattered, tucking away a loose strand of hair.

“Cast all your cares unto Him, and all will be well. Well, I make sure to just practice. Each morning, I rise at five to read and study my bible… you may join me if you’d like.”

Glancing away, you saw no blonde head walking around near you.

“Really?” you replied.

“Yes! We can read and pray together, discuss what the scripture is saying. Also…do you remember the old hymns from England?”

“Most of them, my lady,” you answered obediently.

“You could sing a few! I’ve just missed them terribly during church,” she said.

“Me as well! I…” you say, putting on your brightest smile you could muster, “yes…I will see you the next morning! I look forward to it.”

Yes, you would find comfort in praying. Exchanging a bit of sleep and your song for Lady Yeardley’s friendship would be worth it. And if the wife was affectionate of you, then the husband would be. You would have allies. You would be safe. And that was worth having to get up with the roosters.

Hurrying home, you caught your breath as soon as the door shut. There was another plan in store.

You ran up to your books and looked through the pages, finding two that were bare enough. You hated to ruin such lovely things, but you had no choice. It was your books or your life. Looking up the right words, you drew them in the air and then practiced writing them all over in the small corners.

The writing was memorized in your hands and mind now.

Looking among your things you found a small wooden chest. Only fit your lace gloves were in there, your one luxury. The paper would fit perfectly.

So far, you would write only two. The bare minimum.

You wrote carefully, making sure each word would be understandable. There was fire beneath your borrowed quill.

Yes…I borrowed it from Mercy…she must have gotten it from…  
Shaking the thought away, you pulled yourself back to focus. The words seemed perfectly readable.

Looking around and seeing no face was peeking through your window, you began to blow it dry. Then after a bit of settling, you folded it up and placed it in the wooden box.

Then the next morning you headed over to the Sharrow’s farm. Although you yawned from the early hours and your voice was a little hoarse from a bit of early hymn singing (Even though Lady Yeardley did adore it and coo over you like a proud aunt), it was lovely to see the orange sky peep over the horizon as it settled on the tobacco field. You knew farmers kept early hours. She would be there.

Alice was blooming as much as the tobacco plants in the field before the farm. She touched them with tenderness, feeling them grow because of her. Her hair was tied back and she wore an apron that seemed a little dirty, but she looked as grand as any princess. She was smiling as she watered them. It seemed the ghost of her torture had gone away. Just for a moment.

“Pardon me…” you greeted, moving closer to her.

She ran up to embrace you, cheeks flushing.

“Y/N! I’ve been so busy! Oh, how are you?” she asked.

Nodding, you peeked over your shoulder and saw no sign of anyone listening. Then continued.

“I’m well! At least for now…but, I came here because I have something for you…” you announced

You brought forth the small wooden box.

“Why, what’s in it?” she asked, she pulled the lid open until your hands shot forth and shut it closed.

“No! Alice! You can’t see what’s inside! I’m giving this to you because…”

Walking closer, you lowered your voice.

“I think I’m going to die. I’m in danger.”

“Danger? But why- who?” she asked, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“I cannot tell you.”

“Why?”

“It’s not safe to tell you, not if you still want protection from…. but…if something should happen to me…if I die, and not of illness, open this box. Hide it so no one but you know where it is. If I die, open it. Tell people it was from me. But you are not to look at it unless something should happen, do you understand!” you order, looking right into her eyes.

There was a pause. The robins and sparrows chattered around you. There were footsteps from the house.

She nodded. “Yes, I promise, Y/N.”

“Good…I can breathe a little easier,” you said.

Once you returned home, you began to write in the second free piece of paper. Trying to keep the letters small, the more papers, the better.

You thought there was the sound of hoofbeats outside. But you shrugged it off. That is until there was a sudden knock on the door that surprised you so much that the ink jolted in your hand as you signed it.

Your dress or apron was too obvious a hiding place. Scurrying, you took off your left stocking and placed it inside. If it was your moment of death, then it was a place where she could never suspect anything.

“I’m coming,” you called out as you slid your feet over the paper and put on your stocking and shoe again.

But running up to answer it, you saw it was not Jocelyn.

“S-Sa-M-Master Castelll! Hello! What brings you here!” you greeted. It was better to not call him by his first name in a place where someone could hear you. Keeping an illusion of polite distance.

He was dressed in a side cape that flowed over his left shoulder and was brightly patterned. You felt embarrassingly poor. He stepped a little closer as did you. But you stopped. As much as you craved it, in public was no place to embrace. No matter how handsome he looked that day. Eyes downward, you found your face growing hot. It seemed he was like the sun and if you stared at him directly you would go blind from daring.

But your eyes flickered to behind him where a tall brown horse stood right behind him.

“Did you…did you ride here?” you asked in disbelief.

He looked behind to see the horse and turned back to you nodding.

“Yes, Y/N! I know I could walk, but…can you ride as well! There’s someplace I’d like to show you- and it’s much better to ride than walk there. It’s a bit of a long way away! But can you ride a horse? If so, I’ll bring you one!” he offered.

“Uh, no!” you reply quickly, shaking your head.

“Hm, doesn’t matter! I’ll keep you on, tight!”

“Wait, what?”

“Please, come with me! My horse is gentle! You have to see this place!” he begged, eyes bright and pleading.

It was better than another hour alone and doing nothing out of fear.

“I…uhm, alright,” you agreed.

Walking forward, you felt his hands go to your waist and hoist you up so your feet could be secured. It made you nervous to feel how he was making sure you were safely on by pushing you up and tightening on.

You were securely on the horse, astride as you have noticed ladies ride them, with both of your legs on one side. Though feeling the creature breathe beneath you was a touch unsettling. A wrong move and it would knock you over.

He climbed up on the horse as easily as walking, making sure the cape was on one side. Clicking his tongue, he put the reigns in his hands and the horse trotted off. He was so close you could almost make out his pulse and his pleasant smell. But as you passed a few townsfolk, you had to hide your face in slight embarrassment, biting back your tongue to scold him from riding with you in public.  
There were a few funny looks- who even knew. The Recorder riding off with some woman that not his fiancée.

Once the town was out of sight, the horse did a slow gallop over on a path where trees passed by, shading you from the hot Virginia sun.

“What do you think of riding, Y/N?”

“It’s…it’s thrilling! Is it always safe?”

“When you’re careful. And my horse has a gentle soul, I told you.”

As you passed a small clearing, you petted his mane gently. You heard him brush a little in appreciation.

“Would you like to hold the reigns? For a bit?”

“Yes!”

You hold onto the leather, feeling him hand them over to you. It felt incredible to have that control. To suddenly travel fast to wherever you wanted to go.

“There it is-right straight ahead…you can lead us there.”

You kept the reigns steady, moving it a little for the horse to keep forward.

The horse reached another clearing. For a while, he picked up the pace and you gripped the reigns to hold on. There was a beautiful wide sky above you and a field with a path and grass growing high enough that bees did not strain to float above it. There were a few trees that went by you as you both rode, ducking your heads under branches that were stretching down. You noticed a few plants that had little blooms passed you, a few of their puffs and petals blowing in the wind. It was a universe of emerald all around you. As the grass shortened, you saw one tobacco field that was still full of dirt and sweaty men in brown hats plowing it.

Then you came upon another large tobacco field. Only the plants in bloom in this one. The sun was peeking and disappearing beneath large, white clouds. There were no workers. They almost looked like large leaves of spinach from the ground. Already you could smell them.

“Y/N…these are some of our tobacco fields. Have you ever seen them before?” he asked.

“I have not!” you respond, looking around.

Your head tilted, but you didn’t dare crane your neck too far. Anything that would make you fall. But his hands replaced yours on the reigns. Feeling his arms were around you made your breath feel short.

“What do you think?”

“It’s…it’s huge!”

Why would he want to show you a tobacco field, though? The size, you admit it, was impressive. Maybe if you planted your own, you could get some form of money. Protection. Freedom.

“That’s not even all of it. Some people plant their own, like the Sharrows. But here-here is the heart of our tobacco, where most of us keep ours,” he explained.

“Whose tobacco does all this belong to? Do they…divide it?” you asked curiously.

He smiled and then lifted his arm to point to a certain direction.”

“The Governor’s tobacco is over there north. Most people have at least a little tobacco. Farlow’s is to the east…”

“Do you have any?” you asked.

He prompted his horse to walk forward slightly. You saw a little brown sign around there and could read his last name carved onto the wooden sign.

“This is mine,” he announced.

Turning around to him he smiled gently.

“I began planting it the day I arrived. I was the youngest son of a family with nothing to offer youngest sons, Y/N. I came here to have a new start. A new life. And I chose to invest in some tobacco. That’s what the company is making money off of, that’s a way I could have financial security. Far more than I would in England without being dependent my family’s help.”

He got off the horse, helping you as you climbed out.

You felt yourself smiling.

“That’s very good, Samuel. I’m proud of you. You’ve saved things. And it seems you’ve worked hard. You’ve done so much for this community, for everyone. I can see it.” you praise, looking at it.

“Do you know how much tobacco I have?” he asked.

“No, I don’t.”

“250 pounds right now,” he answered. “It’s enough…more than enough, even.”

You folded your arms, looking at it. The sun was hiding behind a cloud and you no longer had to squint. There was silence. You heard the horse whinny behind you at a bug that buzzed by him. Turning around, you saw him only looking at you, still smiling his same smile, but with something behind it.

“Enough for…for what?” you questioned, shrugging.

Suddenly you knew how much 150 pounds could buy a man and you froze.

“Why…why are you telling me this? What’s happening?” you asked, you felt a rush. Your muscles were tense as if ready to flee. It was like hope, but too good, too good to be true. It was false. This had to be false.  
“Y/N…I know you want me to help you, and I think, to…to keep you safe…” He looked down at his hands and then turned his head up.

“Would you like me to become your husband?” he asked.

You freeze. The words seem to echo in your ear. Your hands reach up and catch yourself, nearly dizzy from the shock. He leaned over and took your hand to steady you

“What? But you’re engaged! You can’t take another wife, it’s illegal!” you cried.

“I broke it off three nights ago after you told me what she did to Mercy…” he said, leaning down to look you in the eye.

“Wha-How? Is that illegal?” you gasped.

“No. I already paid the company early for Jocelyn. Now she’s here and they have their money. The governor gave his consent for a quiet annulment. Honestly, the company won’t care if she’s married if they have the money…I was thinking…”

He cupped your cheek and you leaned on it, your hand on top of his.

“This is the way you could be kept safe. You would have my constant protection. No need to check the food. Because I will always try it. I or Mercy would always be by your side. And I’m going to hire a soldier to guard you and…I remember you said that you loved me…do you still love me?”

His voice softened. You found yourself tearing up, jaw open from the feeling of sudden, extreme happiness.

“I-I do,” you answered, your voice breaking.

“Then we could be together…would you…would you like that? Let me be plain…”

He took both of your hands, speaking with a docile voice.

“Y/N, would you like to marry me?”

Tears dotted your eyelids, sobbing but with happiness. You reached a hand up to wipe it away, finding smiling almost aching your face

“I wouldn’t marry any other man in all the world but you. Y-yes!” you choked out, embracing him.

He scooped you up into a hug, picking you up and turning around your skirt flying. Hidden with the tall green leaves and solitude of the plants, you began to laugh a little. He placed his hands on your face and you both kissed, eyes closing with the pleasure of feeling it. When you let go, you both opened your eyes, but his hands were still on your face.

He cupped your face.

“You! You-You’ll be my wife!”

You kissed the right hand that was holding you.

“And you’ll be my husband, the best of husbands in all creation,” you confirmed.

Both of you walked for a while, somewhat closer to the trees. But holding hands. Enjoying a bit of touching, innocent touching, that could still be permitted. Smiling, enjoying the moment. And the fields, rolling on forever into the horizon where the sun was starting to fade. Where anything was possible now.

“When will be a good date…I’m just worried what…about what people will think of…”

“How could anyone think that?”

“I was Jocelyn’s maid not long ago…” you reminded him.

The air soured from her name and the memory.

“We will think of a date…”

“We can’t wait too long. The company might want to send me away to get married. I…I’ve heard of it happening,” you added.

He pulled you into a slight hug, “it will be okay…it all will be.”

He scooped you up and placed you back on the horse, passing the fields and woods. Once you rode into town, you felt you could sprout wings. Yet to your surprise, he passed by where you lived, heading straight to the Governor’s house.

“Governor Yeardley!” he called out, the cheeriness in his voice could not be contained.

To your surprise, he held onto your waist as he helped you off and you were giddy at the feeling of his hands on you in public.

The governor walked out the door. Nearby you heard a gasp and your head looked to your left. Mercy walk by with a small bucket of water. She seemed as healthy as before, hardly a sign of poisoning.

Samuel held onto your hand. He raised it up pridefully as in a dance.

“Master, master…what’s going on! What is she-oh goodness, I’m so sorry, governor…” Mercy began, her white-capped head turning into a polite curtsy.

He raised his hand with a kind smile, “no, child, you’re alright…”

“Governor, I would like to ask for your consent and your blessing to marry this woman,” Samuel announced, gesturing to you.

“Marry!” Mercy blurted, eyes large.

Governor Yeardley’s eyes squinted as he looked at you. Part of you shied away, hiding a little behind his arms. Maybe he noticed your apron versus the richness of Samuel’s cloak and came to conclusions.

“Yes, may I, Governor?” he repeated.

“Do you have 150 pounds of tobacco for her?” he asked, arms crossing.

“I do.”

“And has she consented? I can’t allow one of the maids to marry a man against her will,” he said.

You stepped forward bravely.

“I…I have,” You replied.

“Then I don’t see why not! When will the wedding be?”

Both of you sighed out, looking at each other, grinning wide in relief.

“I think…next Wednesday I believe. Not too soon to prepare, but not too late for the company,” you said. “Is that alright?”

“It is fine by me,” Samuel responded. He almost seemed to glow with joy.

Governor Yeardley nodded.

“Alright, Master Castell- bring your check and promise the company representative and you will be clear that this maid is purchased for your hand,” He informed.

Heart fluttering, you threw in another word.

“When’s the latest it can be brought?” you asked.

“After the wedding. After that and your fiancée will be in debt,” he informed.

Fiancée. You looked at him again, the word so new and pouring in your mind still. Fiancée. Fiancée. He is my fiancée! You thought.  
“It will be that morning, then. Can it?” Samuel asked.

“Then, that morning, Y/N, I will write a check to the company, if that is what you would like.”

“It is,” you informed.

“Well then, Master Castell- come in and have a quick drink with me to celebrate!” Governor Yeardley praised, his hand going over his shoulder and patting it.

“I’ll be out soon, stay here with Mercy,” he promised.

As the men chatted inside. Mercy went up to you, setting her bucket down.

“You’re marrying the master! But…what of Mistress Woodbyrg? He can’t keep two wives!” she commented.  
“She’s…she’s no longer engaged. He broke it off with her…” you told her.

Fists tightening, you hoped maybe one day, she would know the truth. But not now.

“Oh but a wedding! A wedding! All that work to be done!”

She began pacing, counting all the chores on her fingers, but her smile still present.

“All the cooking, ribbons to tie-and lots of cleaning too, but there will be cakes! And-and the ladies toss flowers! I’ll need to pick some flowers. And maybe there will be some music! And there’s clothes and such to be picked but…”

“Mercy, I can help you, if you’d like!” you suggested, leaning forward. Yet she almost backed away from you, a little surprised at the closeness.

She stopped her excited monologue to gaze at you.

“I’ll have another mistress. I remember when…when you were kind to me that day. And when you told me you were a servant for the mistress…and now she’s out and you’re my mistress!” she gasped

“Yes. I…I can’t believe it either…I’ve never had a servant either…” you confessed awkwardly. Mercy kept blinking and you felt her eyes look around and all over you.

“I just hope I can live up to your standards of a mistress, Mercy…”

“You’re not the one to be afraid, Y/N, Miss, oh! I don’t even know what to call you now!”

The door clicked open and the men were out, Samuel turned to you and took both of your hands smiling.

“Mercy, I see you’ve met your new mistress…” he started.

“But what of Miss Woodbyrg? Would it not break her heart, sir, if I may be bold?” she asked.

He showed no reaction, his body only stiffened.

“While you were sick, I called it off.”

“Why? Pardon my questioning?”

“Because…because we were not fit to be together, I learned. And she did not want to marry me. I decided to spare us from pain,” He told flatly.

He walked over, placing both hands on your shoulders fondly, softly.

“Y/N is a kind-hearted lady and you will not find anyone better. You’ve met before. You know what she is like. Since she is going to be my wife, from now on you are to watch her…and guard her every bit like your old mistress, can you?” he ordered.

“I… I can,” Mercy answered, she bobbled her head up and down in a rush.

He offered you his arm and boldly he kissed your cheek. Despite the slight flush of embarrassment, you were excited to be so affectionate with him in front of people.

“It will be here sooner than we think…I’m thrilled.” He cheered, walking over to his house.

A few dogs and pigs trotted by. There was smoke from some home fires inside and you heard the clang of James work nearby. People passed by and you immediately tensed when they saw you.

“I am too,” you muttered.

“I have half an hour before I must go to work. Is there anything you would like, Y/N? We need to...get more used to being a couple.”

A couple. The words rolled off his mouth so easily.

“I…I’m hungry, do you have any food at your house?” you asked.

“Darling, of course” he turned pink at the sound and you held back a small giggle at the word.

He led you to his house and Mercy fixed a small plate for you.

“Wait!” you cried, pushing it away. “Is it…is it safe?”

He took his fork and ate pieces of each food before you dared do it. After a bit of time passed, he nodded at you. Then you began to stuff yourself boldly. It was so long since you could eat without fear.

“Here, have some water…” he offered, passing a cup.

Gulping it down, you almost wanted to cry from how nice it was to eat and not be afraid. Though Mercy gawked at you. What lady ate like this?

“Do you feel better?” he asked.

“Much better,” you answered.

He went to his desk and returned with a few items behind his back. He grinned like a schoolboy.

“I have this for you- a love token! If you don’t mind.” He said. “For the dear flower of my life.”

From his hand was a small silver token- a flower in the shape of a daffodil. You gasped and held it in your hand. It was small and light enough that maybe it could go on your clothes.

“Thank you! It’s wonderful! I feel like a real lady!” you responded.

“You’ve always been a true lady, Y/N,” he answered, seeing it in your hand.

Glancing over to the desk, you saw a wealth of books and paper. More than enough than you would need. Even with the marriage coming up, you had to be sure. And now that you were engaged to him…maybe it would add fuel to Jocelyn’s fire and an even bigger target on your back. Your plan could still not be tossed away.

“And Samuel… may I have some paper? And ink and quills? I want to practice writing more…” you asked.

If you had to risk death for such happiness, you needed to take further steps and not just with Alice. Whatever it took to feel like this again. To know even if you died, you would not die voiceless.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We finally have our wedding, guys, gals, and non binary pals. Enjoy!

“Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
If this be error and upon me proved,  
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.”- Sonnet 116  
“We may not be in England anymore, but have a Boleyn in our colony,” you heard him smirk.

The tavern tonight was supposed to be full of people. You shouldn’t have picked out that voice. Of the two dirty-faced men with dark beards leaning close over their beers. Yet as soon as you helped Verity finish another drinking song, you did hear it. As clear as thunder.

Some customers came by to press coins into your hands for the song or wish you luck for your upcoming nuptials. Those seemed deaf. You kept glancing back, wondering what you could even say.

“…Miss Woodbyrg’s fiancée…”

“…her maid, even! We’ll be counting the days until Y/N’s head gets lobbed off…” the shorter one hissed.

“Poor Miss Woodbyrg, one cannot understand her grief…” the taller one acknowledged with a shake of his shaggy head.

“Imagine giving someone like her up!”

“A beauty if there ever was one! And Castell tosses her aside for her former maid! Why would the madman do that?”

“Well, why do you think…one large reason why…who knows what Y/N had between her legs that carried him away…” he joked lasciviously with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Look at her, singing away for tips here like some beggar.”

No, you wanted to interrupt, Verity allowed your singing since her throat is sore. But you dared not and could only nod in silent thanks as a teenage boy pressed a gold coin into your apron pocket.

“That’s the woman Castell chose over Jocelyn. A dirty pub singer over a lady. Y/N’s probably after his money. And he just wants a whore he doesn’t have to pay.”

Bits of tears stung your eyes, you bit back your tongue. You turned away to the side to stare at a wall. Making a scene would not solve anything. They would think even worse of you.

“I thought the man was balless,” he chuckled “reading fairy stories and fawning over babes like a damn woman.”

“Maybe not! Now what’s beneath her dress is all he can think about! She must’ve brought the man out of him!” the man gossiped, gesturing towards you.

The words simmered in your brain so much you hardly noticed an old planter hobbling towards you. His beard was streaked grey and his balding head wrinkled.

“Why, that drinking song I’ve barely heard! Do ye happen to know…”

There were strong footsteps and a broad figure from behind cut in front of you.

“Do not bother the lady, sir!” he said

Nathan Bailey’s dark head cut in front of yours as he walked in front of you and you hid behind him. Samuel had paid him to help guard you at least until the wedding. It was a blessing and a curse. The new bride replacing an old one and needing a soldier accompanying her everywhere probably raised a few eyebrows, you wondered. But he did his job, never asked why, and was a decent young man.

“Oh! I meant nothin’ wrong! I was just moved!” the old man pleaded.

“I was just lost in thought, Nathan! He’s been perfectly respectful!” you cut in.

He turned to you with a huff.

“Alright, but if I see you or any man getting handsy with her, you’ll have ‘em chopped up!” he spat.

You mouthed a thank you to Nathan. He returned to sit by you, nursing his water but always hawk-eyed. Processing what you overheard, the insults piercing your insides, you hardly noticed Verity walking up to you.

“Why, Y/N--looks like you made enough coin to buy France! How about some…what…what is it?”

Her cheerful, freckled face darkened at you looking down at the floor.

“I…I’m just…I heard some…I can’t tell you. Not now…” you said, glancing back at the soldier.

The tavern had plenty of men. And even if it was empty, Nathan was there. You were hardly alone even when you had to use a chamber pot or squat in the woods to relieve yourself. Not when you worked. Especially not when you ate. As badly as you wished to confide in Verity…the soldier could overhear something.

“Oh, Y/N, don’t cry…” she comforted, using a spare cloth to wipe your face.

“Just…some people said…bad…bad things…” you managed to blubber out. You wished you could be strong, but it hurt.

She placed her hands on her hips.

“Oh, pah! Damn them all. You’re a good person, making money honestly, and you said you’re about to be married in two days! Who’s the man?”

“You don’t know?” you gasped.

“Is he decent? If not, I’ll…”

“Well-you…you haven’t heard…anything?” you asked.

“No, not even from you…and there’s been too many weddings here I can hardly keep track!” she said with a shrug.

It was not a secret so why hide it?

Verity stood next to the soldier. Her husband was playing cards excitedly with a large group opposite away.

“Do you know the recorder? He made me an offer of marriage and I accepted.”

“Ha! I knew-you’re far too pretty and far too sweet for any decent man here to turn his head away! But wasn’t he…he was…”?

“He was previously betrothed to… someone else. They decided to end things. Her money was paid already, so there was no debt. So, he asked me to marry him…” you said flatly. And technically, that was the truth.

She nodded in understanding. Perhaps even more than even you could say. Perhaps it was a fading in her eye. But she understood.

“Let me walk you home, dear, at least….” She said, looping her am around yours. “I ain’t scared of the bloody dark, I can walk back here backward without fear. But I can’t have a bride fall on her face she has to keep pretty for the wedding.”

The soldier raised his eyebrow and looked at you.

“That…that would be nice…” you answered.

The next morning, you fought not to nod your head off with Lady Yeardley. Sitting on her table reading as she listened was not too reviving an activity for the morning. You completed a reading of the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians. She picked that chapter and had you read aloud the fourth through the eighth verses. Looking up, you thought she would ask you a question for discussion. But it wasn’t a question, it was a phrase.

“Well, speaking of love- my dear...” she said kindly.

A smile broke on your lips. She took the brown bible from your hands.

“Today…today’s my wedding day, ” you finished despite yourself. You could hardly believe the words coming out of your lips.

She then took your palms and guided you to stand up with her.

“I…I’m so nervous, Lady Yeardley!” you confessed.

Was this even the right thing? You felt wrong. Perhaps not the altar was waiting at that church but the guilty nose of adultery. But you could not get the nasty comments of those men last night out of your head. What if they were right?

“I’ve already been married twice and even then I was always nervous at my wedding…” she recalled, taking the bible from your hands. And child! I know you’re afraid but…Castell is a good man, a kind man, you know that?”

You nodded.

“Lady Yeardley…you do not think…you do not think I’m a wicked, bad person, am I?”

“Why, no, not at all…”

“I always feel like I am…I feel like I am doing something wrong…”

“You consented to something sacred, Y/N, how could that ever be wrong?”

Now was the time.

“And I came here wanting a husband, a lord who could provide for me, take care of me. Someone who could protect me the way God protects us. And in turn, I would give him my respect and my…my obedience…” you added hesitantly.

Her eyes beamed. Even if it wasn’t entirely true, it wasn’t entirely false. But most of all, it was everything you knew she would want you to say.

Two can play at that game, Woodbyrg.

“Well, of course, my dear! And you’ve been blessed with the opportunity-there is nothing wrong with that! Quite the opposite in fact!” she cried.

You saw Nathan in the corner, ever diligent. He checked his fingernails for dirt, more interested in those than some silly female chatter.

“Perhaps…we can pray today…since I’m nervous…” you suggested. Now that was entirely true.

“Yes…”

Both of you knelt to the ground. Lady Yeardley asked for a blessing for you and Samuel, as well as a note of thanks for both of you being here in the colony together. It was genuinely sweet of her. Your eyes were closed, but you smiled again.

As soon as an amen was voiced, you got up. It was the morning already. But one other matter was pressing on you too much

Saying your goodbyes just outside, you turned to Nathan and ordered “please go with me to Samuel’s house, now.”

He trotted behind as you picked up your skirt and hurried there. He was puffing to keep up with your sudden speed.

“But- Miss! Miss! Istn’t it-you shouldn’t!” he huffed out.

Knocing eagerly on the door of the short house, you spoke through.

“It’s me! It’s Y/N!”

You heard a slight gasp and a panicked shuffling of feet and closing of doors. Mercy cracked the door, her lily white face face barely sticking out.

“Why Miss Y/L/N! Why are you here? Before it’s time?” she asked chipperly.

“Can…can I speak to him?” you asked.

“Today’s the morning of the wedding! You’ve got a dress and everything to get ready!” she cried

“Mercy, please! I just wish to speak to him! A little!” you begged.

“But miss! It’s bad luck for you to see each other before the wedding! You don’t want that, do you!”

“I don’t need to see him…just speak with him…” you reasoned.

She blinked her eyes, and then turned around. You saw Christopher peak his head in the space too out of curiosity.

“Mercy…could you cover my eyes and Christopher…cover his…that way we can speak?” you asked.

They looked at each other then nodded. Mercy walked you inside and then sat you down. She placed her pale hands from her sides oer yours until all was black. You heard a few footsteps.

“Y/N…what is the matter, darling? Is everything alright?” you heard Samuel ask. Thought the slight laugh in his voice was undeniable. “I haven’t put the check in yet…so you’ll have to wait a little while.”

“Samuel, if I am to do this, I have to know something…what am I to you?”

“Why, why such doubts?”

“There has been…been talk on my character…” you blurted.

“Who has been speaking? I’ll deal with them if need be!”

“No! I was worried if your intentions were…if they’re honest…because they said that…I must have been some, some conquest to you. Am I? Please be honest!”

“Oh, Y/N, I would fight those men if I could but…sweetheart, if I saw you as a conquest, would I consider marrying you? Would I consider using my own tobacco for you if I planned on abandoning you after?”

“…no, you wouldn’t…”

“You’re no prize. Y/N. You’re my light, my friend, my joy, my beloved-you know me better than anyone and you care for me more than anyone I’ve ever met. And I know if I am at that church and I don’t see you walk up to me later today… I don’t know what I’ll even think. And now I feel scared you…you won’t.”

You felt yourself sniffle “Oh Samuel, I’m so sorry! I was just hurt by gossip-can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive…you were hurt and unsure. And there’s been many a poor maid beguiled in the past. You didn’t want to end up becoming one.”

“I wish I could embrace you now.” You said, not caring who was there to hear it.

“We’ll have time for that after. There’s a check I need to give to the governor first…and I have to be at the church after, would you like to join me?” You could hear the smile in his voice

“More than anything else in the world…I will see you later.”

“I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

Mercy pulled your arm up and turned you around while your eyes were still closed. She walked you outside and closed the door. She trotted after you, but saw that the emotion welled up in you had let out. You let out a few tears and covered your hand with your mouth.

“Miss, there’s already a lot to do for today- and there’s something I…Why, miss? What is it? Please don’t cry!”

“Miss, there’s already a lot to do for today- and there’s something I…Why, miss? What is it? Please don’t cry!”

She took a handkerchief from her pocket, you noticed it was white with little strawberries sewn into the middle, You patted your eyes dry. Nathan stood by, quiet and watchful.

“Master Castell will not want you to see you so upset! Especially not today of all days!”

“I…I don’t think I’m upset…not anymore. I’m crying because…I’m happy. I’m happy that I can be sure he…he cares about me.”

“What have people been saying, miss?”

“I…I’ll tell you later. I just have something to ask of you…what is it you were talking about?”

She took your arm, pulling you excitedly to the front of your house. Nathan stayed outside, always keeping a safe, polite distance but his pistol ever by his side.

As you walked inside, you were surprised to see Alice there with pink flowers in her hands.

“Oh, Alice! Th-thank you!” you cheered, accepting the plants.

“I’ve picked them this morning, so they were fresh…” she added proudly.

“This is a precious gift, thank you!”

“Well, I have a gift…but it is not this one…” she teased, her cheeks grew rosier from the happiness shining from her beautiful face.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

She smiled mischievously, “I know it’s not like me to take things without asking…but you did so much for me, when we went on the ship and…and after and with everything…I had to thank you…so I asked for Mercy’s help. I’ve kept the key you gave me.”

“And right glad I did, miss-and it’s most beautiful!” Mercy cut in.

“What is?” you asked.

She stepped aside and gestured to your bed.

When you looked on it, there was your dress. It was your nicest dress. When you packed it, you knew that if, no, when you were married at the colony you would wear it.

But it was different. There were decorative little flowers sewn into the skirt. A few tears and patches were fixed and smoothed out. There was a beautiful, shining material added to the skirt and bits of gold decorations that shone in the light. It did not look like just merely a nice dress for a Sunday church service. It looked like a gown a queen in a fairy tale might wear.

Covering a slight gasp, you embraced the two of them with another hundred thanks for their work.

Mercy tied up your stays and helped you put on a few more petticoats. Alice held it gently open for you to walk in. Once it was slipped over your body and buttoned, you noticed the skirt felt wider, as if you looked like you were floating. You slipped two lace gloves, the only luxury the company gave each woman aboard, Mercy nudged your arm.

“Oh! Please! Please let me do your hair! I’m so good with hair and I’ve had practice!” she begged with wide eyes.

“Why…sure…you can, Mercy! I’m sure you do wonders!” you agreed, settling into the chair.

It had been long since England since any changes were made to your hair. Since first boarding the boat it had grown out some. Mercy was gentle as she tucked in strands, put pins in, and did her best to brush it through and present your hair in a way that was beautiful.

“And these!” she cheered, pulling a few flowers from her pockets and tucking them into the crown of your head securely.

Looking at your reflection in the window, they looked like little jewels. Alice folded her arms and admired it quietly.

“One more right here…I do hope you are not tender-headed, miss….”

She fixed it in a way that flattered your face yet felt soft, free, and romantic. Alice’s eyes went bright as you turned to face her.

“Oh…oh heavens…you look beautiful, Y/N…” Alice said.

“I don’t know if the whole world itself had such a bride!” Mercy declared, folding her arms behind her.

You were on the verge of your next hug when there was a knock on the door. Christopher walked in.

“Ladies…the check has been delivered. In a few minutes, he’ll be ready at the church.” He reminded.

“Yes, but get you gone! You have to be there too!” Alice teased, shooing him away. She waved goodbyre as she left.

“I’ll see you after, Y/N…”

Your heart began to beat hard against your ribs. The time was approaching.

“Mercy…Mercy…thank you- you made this all happen…not to mention all of that cooking!” you recalled.

“I’m only glad you could assist me!” she said.

“I couldn’t let you do all of that by yourself!”

She smiled, sniffing up a few tears herself.

Outside, you heard up a few fiddles and instruments playing in the distance. You knew they always did at weddings. And here they were, almost like an approaching army but not bringing war but bringing joy and expecting not a battle, but the approach of a bride.

“You’re most welcome…Miss…Mistress Y/N…I bet the Master might swoon at the sight of you…”

“I’m feeling dizzy myself…” you confessed.

Taking a deep breath, sudden fears clenched inside your stomach, images and bitter memories flashing in your mind. This was all too perfect. Any minute, something horrible might happen. Something would go wrong.

“Oh miss! Don’t be so troubled! Today is going to be the most heavenly day!” she cheered.

You nodded, returning the strawberry handkerchief to her.

“Yes I will…I’ll try to forget everything…I’m just…nervous. I almost feel like I’m going to die once I step inside that church…” you confided.

“Why, you won’t die! But the master might die of unhappiness if you don’t! You can clutch my hand as we walk…that way you know that today is today!”

She handed you the pink flowers from Alice.

“And I might die of unhappiness if I don’t make myself go too…” you reasoned.

Shaking it aside, trying to slow your breathing, you both walked out. You treaded through a bit of dirt, but you didn’t mind. You kept your eyes forward. There was plenty of a crowd watching. Even if they were running errands about town, they watched. Your gown contrasting with the many drabber colors of ordinary day clothes as if you were a large butterfly. Some ladies even curtsied, and men took off their hats in reverence.

Finally, you saw the church. And a few figures outside the door.

Samuel was there, so was Christopher by his side, patting his back in brotherly congratulations. You felt as if your breathing would stop at the sight of Samuel. He looked incredibly dashing, his cape just over his shoulder, and never more like a prince than today.

When you walked up to the entrance, Mercy slipped out of your arm to go back into the crowd. You took a few soft steps to be by his side.

“You look beautiful, Y/N,” he said quietly into your ear as the doors opened.

“Thank you…you as well…”

A few witnesses, Christopher and the Yeardley couple, walked in as everyone else waited outside. Reverend Whitacker stood at the altar. The church had been decorated with a few extra flowers than normal. But oblivious to any unsanctimonious joy, he stared at you both. He was a sour faced man with long gray hair and beady eyes, analyzing you both. And his solemn frown seemed a bit serious for a wedding. Had he heard the rumors in town concerning you? And believed them? You wanted to freeze. You kept walking up and reached the altar.

Whitaker began to read the first rites. Looking down, once your other hand let go of the flowers, you noticed it was shaking. This was all so happy. Too happy almost. But here you were, about to be married to the sweetest, dearest, best of men. You had braved separation from your family, a voyage on a ship, hard work, faced drudgery, heartbreak, and came close to death. It was all overwhelming, and the words and first prayers seemed numb to your ears. You found you were smiling a little, but you wanted to cry again.

You felt Samuel turn his head to see you. His eyes were a little bright and his mouth closed as if trying to keep himself from speaking or anything lest he should cry too. You felt his hand come close and take yours. You accepted it. He felt less tense, as did you.

Samuel leaned forward after a prayer to him.

“If you would mind, minister…I asked you about a passage from the book of Ruth earlier…can it please be read here for the ceremony?” he asked.

“It’s not normal to…”

“Pease, just for this ceremony, I think it would be appropriate for today…” Samuel reasoned.

“If it’s for this ceremony, I will…” He nodded soberly, turning his head down to the bible and flipping the pages.

You turned to face Samuel. As the priest read, you could see him lightly mouthing the words to you. As if he was genuinely saying them to you.

“Entreat me not to leave thee or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people will be my people, and thy God my God.”  
A stray tear escaped you. But your smile widened.

Finally, you made vows to love and honor each other. Your voice became stronger with each promise “from this day, until death do us part.”

After a bit of communion with wine and bread, a final prayer was said. You began to breathe in a little deeper. You felt his hands were shaking as well. Both of you let out a deep breath as if you both were holding it in throughout.

“I now pronounce you, man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Samuel leaned forward and kissed you so quickly and deeply you almost got dizzy. Your hands reached up and froze, and then wrapped around, deepening it.

It’s…it’s done! It’s happened! I never knew it would happen. This day I never thought would ever come.

Once you walked out, almost in a trance, the crowds of people were outside. You wondered if they would jeer or throw mud at you for a second.

They applauded. Women in pretty dresses and their hair done in braided buns tossed flower petals from their baskets. Samuel took your hand and raised it up and men cheered for him. Alice even walked up and gave you a large hug.

“Congratulations, Mistress Castell,” she said.

More people, strangers even gave their good wishes. Nearby there was a small band of musicians playing fiddles, drums, flutes, fifes, and you gazed at them, smiling at the joy of the music and all that it brought you.

You felt Samuel gently put a hand on your shoulder as you listened, and then turned around and kissed you again, and you felt yourself smile into it.

“I never knew I could be this happy…” you confessed.

“Neither I…but I love you, my sweeting,” he said cupping your face.

You leaned into it, kissing part of the palm of his hand and grinning. A few flower petals went over you in a flurry and some got into his brown hair.

“You didn’t tell me you would wear flowers today!” you joked, following the wedding party as everyone began to walk.

“I guess I wished to match you!” he replied, he gently took a hand to touch the little flowers in your hair that was Mercy’s touch. In turn, you brushed a few petals off his shoulder and placed them on the top of his head teasingly.

Everyone went over to the tavern. Tables set aside; everyone went quiet once each person received a glass of ale. Governor Yeardley himself handed you and your new husband two each.

“Everyone!” he barked. The party stilled.

He beamed at you two. Glasses with ale were passed around to as many as who could get one.

“Castell is a good man, a man without whom our colony would be lost and dysfunctional. Every day, every event we see him scribbling away in the corner, making sure our history is secure. Y/N is an honest, God-fearing woman. Together are the ideal, perfect couple for our colony.”

“To the health of the Castells and of Virginia!” he declared, drinking deep. The rest of you followed suit.

Mercy and a few of the women began to scramble in and out of the room carrying plates of food. Music picked up as everyone began to feast on the bounty saved for today. You enjoyed eating with Samuel publicly without a sense of shame.

“That verse was beautiful, thank you…Whitaker isn’t always a friendly man…” you said.

He nodded and beamed, “I’ve talked with him a bit before…and I thought with the conversation we had earlier…it felt right to have it in. It’s from the Bible after all.”

People walked up to congratulate the two of you constantly. If you happened to be chewing on bread as someone babbled away, Samuel put a protective hand over you and thanked them for your sake so you could eat your food. Christopher was arriving as Samuel got up from his seat and embraced him happily, the two of them talking deeply with large smiles.

The same musicians began to play some tender ballads. You both enjoyed biting into your wedding cakes, the ones Mercy handed out, made with honey into it and frosted with powdered sugar. Samuel brought your hand to his lips and kissed it.

“I’d like to speak with Farlow and the governor, I’ll be back…”

“I’d like to speak to the Sharrows, I’ll be back as well…” you said, both of you getting up from your chairs.

Once you had wandered, talking with the Sharrows, and a few more people here and there, you found yourself backing into a corner. It seemed as if almost all of the bloody colony had arrived and the air was stuffy with the crowd. It was fading to be the hours of dancing and people began to step away to form a dance floor in a messy oval in the wooden room. Silently, you felt yourself walk backwards. You felt the cool air of evening by your cheek as you got close to the door.

“Congratulations on your marriage…” a voice as low and smooth as honey spoke to you.

“Why th…”

Head turning, your heart stopped at the sight of her.

“Yes. Thank you.” You said to Jocelyn.

Your feet were stuck in place, and a word kept repeating in your head, ‘no no no no, no, no….’ As hard as you tried to plaster a smile on your face, your food began to swirl in your stomach.

“May I ask, what is Samuel doing tomorrow?” she questioned matter-of-factly. “Who is he speaking with?”

Her eyes looked down at your dress in surprise at the work and quality. For once, it was clear from your clothes that you were no longer below her station.

“He’s going to just do his normal work of recording Assembly business. And that’s it. Why should that matter to you?” you said.

“It should. If you do not know what is happening in here, then you’re truly a dull woman. You’ve been married for an hour, you should know these things.”

You shrugged.

“I don’t care to know them.”

“That’s your folly. Give him a smile and be sweet, that’s all you have to do to get a man’s attention…it seemed that and spreading your legs to him worked in your favor, after all. Now you can use it to be useful.” She added with a glance in his direction.

“I have not spread my legs once to him!” you blurted quietly, glancing to make sure no one overheard. You had had enough.

“That’s what everyone thinks now. You’ll have to-might as well be practical with it. But perhaps…you aren’t that good in bed. Well, when a wife can’t satisfy her husband…you know what they say happens, it’s the nature of men…” she said with a wicked smile.

A hundred curses were caught in your throat.

“If that’s all you have to say then I do not need my time wasted, there’s guests I’d like to talk to before the day is over,” You replied a little icily.

There was only so much you could do or say with people surrounding you.

“If you are going to blindly let Farlow, Redwick, and Yeardley destroy everything, your time is being wasted,” Jocelyn said.

She adjusted the hat on top of her head from tipping too far off.

“They aren’t much! And this isn’t a day for politics…it’s a day for feasting and my food is getting cold,” you dismissed, starting to walk away.

She swerved in front of you.

“It’s also about to be a wedding night and if you don’t please him tonight with your pathetic body...”

“Thank you for your kind sentiments,” you interrupted sarcastically. “Now I must leave, farewell.”

As you turned away, deciding it was best to be aggressive, you felt her grip your arm, pulling you in close with an immense strength that you were surprised Jocelyn had in her slender arms. Your stomach dropped and you bit back the urge to yell. Perhaps she was provoking you on purpose. Especially in public on your wedding day.

“I haven’t forgotten. This will not make you any safer. Samuel gave the company the money so you could be his slut. Now no one cares what happens. you’re a dead bitch walking,” she hissed lowly so that only you could hear.

Fear gripped you. Your face dipped down, feeling warm. You could have sworn a head or two turned your way out of the peripheral of your eye.

You released a false laugh, your courage growing, and walked away from her.

“Miss Woodbyrg, what a funny joke!”

She looked stiff as a bust. Her soft, plump lips were growing tight.

“I mean it,” she voiced.

Biting away a frown, you heard the fiddles pick up a quick tune.

“You must excuse me,” you said in an official voice as you could muster. “I’d like to have a dance with my husband.”

Fleeing as far from her as you could, you joined your husbands side on the other half of the room.

Seeing your face, his own turned dark.

“Darling, what is it?” he asked, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You shook your head, feeling one flower fall off a strand of your hair.

“It’s…it’s just I’m…I’m worried…” you confessed,

“Can you discuss this now?”

“Not with everyone around us…”

“It will be alright but…would you like to dance-would it make you feel better?”

He gave you his open hand. You placed your own hand, blanketed by your lace gloves, in it.

“Y-yes,” you agreed.

You got into lines and danced with the others finding him surprisingly talented. They were simple country dances that everyone knew so as many people could attend the wedding as possible. But you smiled with the movements, the switching of arms and touching of hands as you walked with him in a circle, skirts and the odd cloak floating like a bird’s wing. How couples could line up and run to the ends then run through the lines of people and still be together. Even if there was a mistake or a stepped toe, people smile and chuckled it off. Any worries were replaced with your muscles getting sore from the quick movement.

As the song ended, instead of a last gentlemanly bow as was tradition, you felt Samuel walk to you and place his arms around your body. In an instant, he lifted you up and you started laughing, placing your arms around his shoulders for security as he twirled you around, your skirt billowing. The others smiled at the sight.

“Today, I am the happiest of all men!” he chirruped to them, giving you a sloppy kiss on your cheek as you returned his embrace. It was comforting, enveloping even.

Though you felt yourself sight a little once he let go.

There were so many dances, you weren’t aware your feet were hurting. Or that the sun long past dipped over the horizon.

Mercy picked up her apron and ran to you. In one hand she held a large cup of ale.

“Oh, Miss…. Mistress! No- Mistress Y/L/N! No, not that! Mistress Castell!” she corrected herself.

"It's alright Mercy, I'm new to it myself!"  
She blinked away tears, rubbing it off with her eyes. Her chest huffed with crying.

"I'm so happy today! So happy! I'm so happy for both of you! How he smiled! I thought he would burst when we walked up to him! I remember how you comforted me-I was the first person you even spoke to here. But now…now you're my mistress after you've been my friend, and my last mistress…she…she’s so… and….and oh! I feel so much!" she cried, letting out pent up tears.

"Have peace Mercy! It's normal to cry! Everything's changing, but for the better this time! Just dance and enjoy yourself!" you cheered.

Returning the strawberry handkerchief, it was your turn to wipe off her sniffling face.

"I have to clean up all the…"

"No, you don't! Just enjoy the party!" you insisted.

"But its ending! See! Everyone's walking out and…you have to…to go home and I have to pick up the mess!" she refused.

Part of you jumped, already with a faint jittery shiver running down you.

"Let's just…finish your drink, let's enjoy today while it lasts and not worry," you suggested.

She drank half of the ale in a large gulp.

"But…you might need some water, too," you added.

People filtered out with bright eyes from dancing and farewells on their lips. 

Samuel walked up to you and linked his arm around yours. Suddenly aware of how close he felt, your breathing quickened. You felt flushed from all the people, excitement, and dancing.

He wished any slightly drunk guest's good night as you finally walked outside into the night. It felt crisp compared to the cramped dancing quarters and you shivered a little. Clutching his arm, you felt yourself become weak at the sight of what was now your door.

"Welcome home, Mistress Castell," he said as he opened it. "Can I carry you in? It's bad luck if you trip when you walk inside."

"Yes, you may."

He scooped you into his arms and carried you past the main room. Looking around, you saw more flowers were on the tables, chest, and desk than what was normal, into your shared room. You could have almost collapsed from the nerves and excitement.

The bed had been decorated with a few spare ribbons tied into bows. Just like people did for weddings back home. You even noticed that there were pink primroses on the chest next to the bed.

As he let you down, both of you stood near each other. His face looked as flushed as your and he placed his hands together in what seemed to be…timidity it looked.

"Have you…have you eaten well? People kept talking to us, I hope you aren't hungry from all of that," he asked.

"I'm stuffed, I can't take another bite…it was all good, though," you said, attempting to break the awkwardness.

"Have you had some water?"

"Yes."

"I have…I have a little bit of wine I've been saving. I thought we could open it to…to celebrate…" he offered.

"Yes, I would like that," you replied.

He hurried out, returning with the bottle and two green glasses. You sat on the edge of the bed and watched as he poured you both a glass. Sitting by your side, you clinked your glasses together in a toast, having your first sip.

"Your house looks wonderful with the flowers" you complimented.

"I did it for you. Well, Mercy did too. We both picked them. She laughed at me picking them."

"You've picked plenty of flowers before..." you gestured to the primroses.

"I thought you would like that touch. Even then I wanted somehow to show you how much I adore you…"

Leaning forward, though wine was still on your breath, you took his hand and kissed it, leaving a small mark on it.

"I hope every day I can show how much I adore you as well…" you said.

He gave you another kiss, trailing over from your mouth to the crook of your neck. You gasped at the feeling. Your hands naturally went to hold onto his arms, but you felt his hands wander to the buttons on the back of your dress, teasing away at them much to your mixed nerves and thrill. But then as he pressed another kiss on a certain spot on your neck you had to let out a laugh.

"Mmph, what is it, Y/N?" he asked quietly.

You replied, "your beard tickles!"

Both of you laughed a little from the released tension.

"It's been itching me since morning," he confessed. 

"I can't take it off, but I can help you with your cloak, can I?" you offered.

Sitting so you could reach it, you unhooked it and set it away.

He undid a few buttons of his doublet then paused.

"And let me help you…first with your hair…" he said.

Nodding, you sat and felt his hands touch it, letting strands free. He took away the flowers, pins, the turns, and tucks. You realized he never saw you with your hair down…and felt the last part fall free. You looked at him, with your hair freely released and everything set aside. His eyes were sweet. He gently took a strand.

"You'll have to get used to it being down all the time, now…" you commented.

"I won't mind at all…would you like to change out of your clothes?" he asked.

"Yes, I think it's time I did."

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Yes, thank you." You had more to remove than he did.

His hand went to the back of your dress and you felt him unbutton it. Slowly, as if he was touching a piece of glass, he removed the dress, then helped you out of your petticoats, and slowly undid your stays, figuring out how to loosen them. The cups of wine were left on the chest, almost entirely drunk. You felt yourself feel warmer with each bit of skin that was slowly being revealed to him. Finally, you felt it loose enough to be taken over your head.

He looked down as you stood before him in your shift, and only your shift. His eyes softened.

"I…I know what you expect of me tonight…" you confessed, jumping right to it.

"I…I…uh, yes. I…I don't expect…expect anything…" he said, his ears going pink.

"Have you…do you have any diseases? You can be honest with me," you pleaded.

"No, I don't," he answered, shaking his head.

He began to undo the buttons of his doublet and removed it, in his white shirt.

"Have you been with anyone?" you asked, placing your hands in your lap.

He froze. His blush increased to his whole face.

"Twice. You will be ashamed of me…"

"You can tell me. Was it anyone here?" you asked.

"No. I was of age and wanted to prove to my brothers that I was a real man. I decided to try a prostitute in Oxford…I got too attached. I saved up to see her second time. I wrote her a few love letters and tried to visit her, and she laughed me away after…I was young and foolish," he recalled.

"You just didn't know…" you commented thoughtfully.

He removed his shoes, stockings, and pants. Now he was also in his shift as you were.

"And you? I know they all boast of the purity of the maids to make wives…but we're alone now, Y/N. You can tell me. Have you been with anyone?" Samuel asked in turn.

You looked him in the eyes, your beloved, and told him honestly about what experience or lack of experience you have had. He was nonjudgmental and nodded in understanding. Jocelyn's words from earlier flashed in your mind.

"I just don't want to…to... to displease you," you said, looking down at your feet.

"You're my wife now, I made vows before God to protect and cherish you. I don't care about being pleased. I just want to tell you that you'll always be safe with me. And you shouldn't be forced to anything. We don't have to do anything tonight." He assured you.

He felt a slight rush of excitement as he went up to kiss you again, feeling butterflies in your body as he did. But you felt an aching further below. You pressed your lips further, tasting the wine. You began to lay down on the bed, feeling it shift with your new weight on it.

He turned his head up and asked "would you…would you like to make love tonight? If you don't want to, I…"

"Yes!" you cried.

"Yes?…are you…"

"It's our wedding night! And…I want you too much…" you replied bluntly, looking in his eyes. Perhaps it wasn't ladylike to admit it. He didn't seem to care. And it was the truth.

You took his hands and led them to your sides. He laid you down softly on top of you, but not his whole weight. You could even feel how badly he wanted you from under his shift.

"Well, if my wife insists, I'll obey…" he smirked.

Letting out another little laugh, you began to kiss him. Your hands began to touch him boldly, you felt his body from the shift-his back, his biceps, his waist, and you felt one of his hands get to your hair. You pressed each other's forehead against each other breathing in deep with the cold rush of each other's breath.  
Courage made you push him a little bit away. You placed your hands over the tie on the front of your shift that held it together, the last thing hiding your "pathetic" body. You unhooked the front of your shift. His pupils went large once you removed it over your shoulders and let it fall away.

He smiled at you, "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, Y/N…God, you make my head spin."

As you laid back on the bed with a grin, your heart beating against your ribs so hard that you could hear it through your eardrums, you looked up at him you laid down and he placed one hand on the collar of his shift and joined you.

"Tell me you love me," you voiced nervously.

He took it off and laid on you, cupping your face again.

"I love you…that's everything I can think of right now. I'd say some pretty verses I'd say to you now but…at the sight of you naked I forgot it entirely…"

"I appreciate the thought, my darling," you commented with a smile.

It was a night that was tender. Every physical urge you both suppressed around each other was released in a wave inside of you. Pleasure flooded every inch of you. You forgot the men at the tavern. You forgot the tears from earlier. You even forgot the woman you wanted to forget about most of all. You only knew his name. You cried out his name as a prayer many times that night. And he prayed yours.

Now completely, husband and wife, you both fell asleep in a tangle of each other's arms.


End file.
